That Has Such People
by samptra
Summary: Captain Tony Stark has found himself in a strange time and place. Billionaire, genius Steve Rogers has no idea what to do with a man from the past. Together perhaps they can teach each other a little about the past and future.
1. Part I

Disclaimer: Avengers are property of Marvel and Disney just borrowing!

Story: Captain Tony Stark has found himself in a strange time and place. Billionaire, genius Steve Rogers has no idea what to do with a man from the past. Together perhaps they can teach each other a little about the past and future.

Author's Note: PLEASE READ FIRST! So I'm back! With another story that may very well send some people up the wall, but that's what I like to do push the boundaries of the fan fic world. So in an effort to minimize some of the backlash I'm going to get, I am warning you right now.

THIS IS A REVERSAL FAN FIC TONY AND STEVE ARE SWITCHING!

If that does not appeal to you then please read no further, if you are intrigued then by all means read on.

Big thank you to my beta ravingbeauty for looking this over, that's right beta'd my friends! Enjoy!

* * *

That Has Such People

Part I – _**It is not in the starts to hold out destiny but in ourselves**_**.**

_New York - 1943_

With brow furrowed and tongue protruding, his lean well-worn fingers gripped the pencil, firmly dragging it across the page. Blending lines and shadows expertly, a form began to take shape on paper – tall and broad, one arm braced on a hip, the other poised in a smart salute, a cocky grin playing about perfect lips.

"Stark!" a harried voice called out, startling the man holding the pencil. He hastily stood, hurrying to follow the man who'd called him. Nervously pushing thick glasses back up his nose, he quickly came to a halt before a man in a lab coat, who was frowning at his file.

"Stark, Anthony E. Family?" the man asked, blandly looking down at him.

Anthony – or Tony, as he preferred – straightened to his full five feet and five inches, hoping to look larger than he was.

"Only a brother, sir," he said, meeting the man square in the eye.

Humming, the recruiter looked down again, "How did your father die?"

"Car accident," he replied promptly.

"Mother?"

"Same accident," he said dryly.

Unimpressed, the man eyed him once more, looking over his woefully scrawny frame. "Look kid, you're ineligible on your asthma alone."

"Sir," he tried, but the doctor was already lifting that damned stamp. Tony began to panic. Not again, please not again... "Please," he protested weakly, trying not to let the desperation edge his voice.

The man brought the stamp down with a finality that set Tony's teeth on edge. "I'm saving your life, Stark," he said, grimly closing the file with a dismissive shrug.

Tony Stark clenched his small fists fruitlessly and turned, thrusting his chin in the air as he walked resolutely back to his clothing. His face betrayed none of his anguish until he was once more on the street, among the harried rush of people.

Unseeing, he jammed his hands in his pockets, letting his feet take him slowly away from the recruitment office where young, keen-eyed, long-limbed youths hurried in and out. Venting his frustrations on an innocent rock, he kicked it into the street. Moments later he had to dance out of the way of a group of kids yelling and screaming in their game of war.

War.

The whole damn world was at war. Well, all except him. Today marked his fifth rejection. He could already hear Howard's exasperated tone ringing in his ears.

"_I told you, Tony…" _

Sighing, he ran a frustrated hand through dark brown locks, unconsciously sliding his glasses back up his nose. As his dark eyes finally took in his surroundings, he realized he stood before the movie house. Shrugging, he decided he'd might as well; it wasn't like he had anywhere better to be, and he'd do about anything to put off seeing Howard's _I-told-you-so_ face.

-#-#-#-

His head rang as he collided with the trashcan with a resounding clang. Groaning in pain he heaved himself to his feet, raising his fists gamely.

The bigger man smiled at him, lashing out again as he barked out an order, "Stay down."

Tony tasted blood. Grinning, he rolled to his feet as his hands grabbed up the closest thing to him. Holding a trashcan lid before him, he waited, cursing his own stupid mouth. It wasn't the first time someone had licked him in an alley and it probably wouldn't be the last… He just didn't know when to quit.

His flimsy shield was ripped from his hands as another jab sent him crumpling to the ground. Tony huffed out a pained laugh as he shakily rose to his knees once more. Once upright, he staggered a moment before he found his footing. Then a cocky grin crept across his face, "That all you got?"

Angry, the man looked ready to punch his ticket permanently when suddenly he was the one hitting the ground. Surprised, Tony blinked, taking a moment to register the new figure in the alley.

"Rhodey?" he gasped as a smile stretched across his face.

"Your mouth getting you into trouble again, Tony?" Rhodey teased, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Tony grinned as he brushed himself off, vainly trying to straighten his appearance before he gave his best friend a once over. Noting the uniform, he felt his heart twist. "You get your orders?" he asked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Puffing out his chest, James Rhodes nodded, "Shipping out tomorrow."

A confusing tangle of emotions rolled through the other man, his dark eyes dropping away from his friend guiltily. "I should be going with you," he whispered through tightly clenched teeth.

Eyes softening, James shook his head. "Come on, Tony. I promised Howard I'd come get you," he said as he threw a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders and led them out of the alley.

"Where are we going anyway?" Tony asked, resigned.

Rhodes grinned, "To the future."

Groaning, Tony reluctantly followed his friend as they wound their way towards the packed World's Expo. It was a glittering showcase of all the latest and greatest from the most brilliant minds of the century – including his brother, Howard Stark.

Only Tony's mind wasn't on his brother's work; it was anywhere but. Everywhere he went there were men in uniform, men proudly serving. Why wouldn't they let him? Angry and frustrated, he barely registered the raucous applause of the crowd, Rhodey among them. As his friend stared in wide-eyed amazement, watching Howard wow the crowd, Tony took the opportunity to slip away.

Weaving his way through the crowd, Tony paused outside a recruitment booth to look disgustedly at his too small reflection. Quickly looking away from himself, he moved to step inside.

"Tony, why are you doing this?" James was by his side again, looking at him sadly.

Tony made no move to look at him, "I have to, James. I just… have to."

Sighing, Rhodey reluctantly nodded and held out a hand to his best friend. Tony grasped it, shaking firmly. "Good luck, Tony."

Nodding the smaller man finally looked up, offering his friend a half smile, "I'll see you soon, Rhodey."

The men parted as Tony headed into the office, going through the motions all over again, knowing the process by heart by now. This time it was different, though; the recruiter told him to wait.

Freezing, Tony swallowed thickly as he scooted off the cot and hurried to dress, wondering how much trouble he was in. It was illegal to lie on an enlistment form. Now dressed, he peaked out, watching as an MP positioned himself outside the curtains. Tony grimaced; he was really in trouble. His mind began conjuring up different terrible scenarios. Sure he was about to thrown in jail, he watched nervously as a man in a lab coat entered the room.

"Pleased to meet you, Anthony… Stevens," the older man spoke in a heavily accented voice. Then he gave Tony a wry smile over the top of the file, "Or should I say Stark?"

Tony felt his blood turn to ice. "I, umm… I…" he stuttered, voice failing him.

"Don't worry, Anthony. You are in no trouble here. I am Doctor Erskine."

The flood of relief was quickly followed by total confusion. What the hell was going on?

"So, you want to kill Nazis?" the doctor continued, looking at him steadily, his expression betraying nothing.

Tony shifted uncomfortably. The right answer must be that he absolutely wanted to kill Nazis – only that wasn't true. He slowly straightened to look the doctor in the eyes. Setting his jaw firmly, he gave his answer, "No, sir. I don't really want to kill anyone."

The doctor cocked a curious brow, "Then why try so hard to enlist?"

Tony shrugged, a self-conscious smile pulling at his lips, "My brother says it's because I have more courage than common sense."

Doctor Erskine smiled widely.

-#-#-#-

"No. Absolutely not," Howard said flatly.

Tony frowned. "Why not?" he demanded, trying to tramp down his mounting frustration, reminding himself yet again that he did in fact love his brother.

"Look, Tony. This… this project, it's not… it's…" Howard tried before trailing off with a frown. As he glared at the younger, smaller man across his worktable, his hazel eyes taking in the slight, but damnably determined frame of his brother. Tony had always had a weak constitution; petite and frail, he had a laundry list of medical issues that guaranteed he'd never see the battlefield.

Or so Howard had thought.

"It's not what?" Tony pressed, crossing skinny arms, pinning his brother with dark eyes that peered over thick glasses.

The inventor floundered; whenever it came to his younger brother, he had always had a soft spot.

"Look Howard, Doctor Erskine is offering me a chance – a chance to do something, to be something." Determined, he looked at his brother, willing him to understand. He needed to do this.

"Tony, there are too many variables, the complexities of this project alone…" Howard trailed off. He wanted Tony to understand, to realize the ramifications of his decision. "There's a good chance this will never work."

Tony smiled at him with a half twist of his lips. "I believe in the Doc, and you," he said firmly, and Howard realized with an increasing sense of worry that he had already lost this argument. Tony was stubborn as they came; when he made his mind up there was no changing it.

"You, Joe, Doctor Erskine… you are going to do amazing things. I just want to be part of it."

Howard watched nonplussed as Tony turned to leave, his slight frame standing straight. As his younger brother walked out of the lab, Howard slowly sunk onto one of the stools surrounding his worktable. Head falling to his hands, he smiled humorlessly, "I think you're the one who's going to do great things, Tony."

-#-#-#-

"How mad is he?" Tony asked softly, eyes watching the familiar city roll by the car windows.

"He isn't mad, Tony – he's just worried about you. Besides, I think you have more pressing issues to worry about, don't you?" a familiar voice mused.

Grinning slightly, Tony turned to look at his companion, Miss Virginia Potts, his brother's beautiful and more than competent assistant. Tony was sure he'd loved her since he'd met her.

"I guess," he replied, trying to ignore the heat crawling up his neck. He reminded himself yet again that he was a hyperopic ninety-pound asthmatic; what would a gal like Pep see in him?

But it didn't stop him from wondering what it would have been like if things were different… if _he_ was different. A self-deprecating grin pulled at his features; he guessed he would never know. After all, there was a good chance he would die today.

Tony was still trying to come to terms with the fact the Doc picked him. There had been so many others at boot camp, and they had all been better, stronger. Hell, he wouldn't have chosen him, and yet they had.

"Tony," the beloved melodic voice called, drawing his attention back to the present. "If anyone was meant for this, it's you," Pepper smiled at him, trailing off as the car parked and the driver got out to hold the door.

Tony followed her out, pulling his cap back on as he looked at the unassuming antique shop before them. Briskly Pepper turned, high heels clicking as she led them inside. Once again fighting the heat rising on his neck, Tony followed as they navigated their way through the secret passage and down into the large underground lab.

Tony was suitably impressed at the size of the operation. Automatically he clasped his hands behind his back, a rule when going into Howard's lab. He'd learned long ago the dangers of touching things when he had no idea what they did, no matter how interesting they looked.

Around him he watched smartly uniformed men and women running around, moving with purpose. On the far side of the room, he spotted Howard and Joe going over some rather complicated looking machinery.

Suddenly Doctor Erskine was before him. "How are you feeling today, Tony?" he asked, smiling at the smaller man.

Shrugging, the dark haired man offered him a tight, nervous grin. "Not bad, considering."

The doctor chuckled and stepped back to converse with several of the assistants while Howard stepped forward, expression drawn and worried.

"You sure about this, Tony?" Howard asked softly, holding out the vain hope that his brother would change his mind.

Tony nodded firmly, handing over his cap and glasses. Sighing, Howard accepted them, trying to hide his worry.

"And the shirt," Erskine called.

Nodding, Tony unbuttoned his uniform and handed it over before shrugging out of his undershirt as well. Howard silently accepted the garments before offering his brother a sickly grin and a friendly clap on the shoulder, "Good luck, Tony."

Tony staggered under the friendly pat, giving his brother a half-hearted glare. "Remember that time when we were kids and you wanted me to test out that new helmet you were working on, and you managed to singe off my eyebrows?"

Howard cracked a smile, "Yes."

Tony glanced meaningfully at Erskine and the machine. "I'd better have eyebrows at the end of this."

Snorting, Howard made his way back to the console while Tony turned his attention to another familiar face, his brother's right hand man. "You in on this too, Joe?" he teased the blond man.

Joseph Rogers gave him an encouraging smile, "Wouldn't miss this for the world."

Tony returned the smile, "Make sure he doesn't mess anything up, alright?" he said as he stepped onto the platform beside Dr. Erskine, who gestured for him to lie down in the machine. Swallowing down his nerves, Tony was about to comply when he paused, remembering something. He hesitated a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Smiling crookedly, he handed it over.

Perplexed, Erskine frowned and looked at him before unfolding the worn paper. It revealed a picture, a drawing, of a hero from a comic book. The unknown figure had only the barest traces of a face, but it was obvious his smile was self-assured, his salute jaunty. The doctor's intelligent gray eyes looked up at the artist, an eyebrow arching in question.

Tony sat on the machine, shifting his skinny frame to lie down, "Just in case this doesn't work, at least you'll have your hero."

Chuckling, the man tucked the picture away before picking up a syringe and vial. After gently swabbing thin skin, the Doc expertly injected the slender man.

"That wasn't so bad," Tony huffed shakily.

"That was only the antibiotics," Erskine returned, amused.

Tony managed a sickly grin as the chamber was sealed. His blood pounded in his ears.

"Ok in there?" the Doc called.

"Suppose it's too late to use the bathroom then?" Tony joked back.

Swallowing, Tony glanced up at the small window above his head, wondering just what this was going to -

Tony's thoughts broke off as pain ripped through his body. Every nerve fiber screamed in agony. Panting, Tony bit his lip to stop from crying out, only to taste blood. Another blinding wave of pain had his back arching as a yell was ripped from this throat. Outside he could vaguely hear Howard, Pepper, and Erskine yelling for the machine to be shut down.

Tony clenched his jaw. "NO!" he bellowed, "I can do this!"

Panting, he felt sweat trickle down his back. He could do this; the pain was blinding, but he wasn't about to quit now. Firmly he gritted his teeth and hoped to God that the blessed blackness dancing just outside his periphery would claim him. Muscle and skin pulled, bones ground, and just when he was sure he could take no more, that surely he was going to pull apart, it stopped. Everything was silent and black.

Dazed, Tony panted and tried to regain his bearings as the chamber was opened, the light too bright for tender eyes.

Tony blinked rapidly as he tried to focus, taking a hesitant step on trembling legs. His entire body ached dully, like it had been overworked and abused. Raising a shaking hand to wipe his face, Tony paused and stared dumbfounded at his hand. His normally lean and delicate fingers were suddenly strong and capable.

Incredulous dark eyes blinked at the appendage before he glanced beyond to the stunned faces surrounding him. Tony registered several things at once – the looks of stunned disbelief and that suddenly everyone seemed to have gotten smaller. Frowning, he shook his head; no, that wasn't right. The world hadn't gotten smaller; he was bigger.

Pepper stepped forward first, her blue gaze sliding across his chest as her mouth fell open. Curiously Tony looked down, his jaw dropping at what he saw. Unbelieving, he touched his now smooth and muscular chest, which only minutes ago had been gaunt and frail. Still stunned, he looked back at Pepper, a delicate flush dusting her cheeks.

"Maybe a shirt, Miss Potts?" Erskine asked, his tone unable to hide his amusement. She nodded and turned away, taking a moment to collect herself.

Looking pale and wan, Howard was busy double-checking his readings, but still managed to send him a half-relieved, half-smug look.

Tony managed a hoarse thanks to Pepper as he pulled on the t-shirt she handed him, still sure he was in a dream of some sort. Soon he would wake up and be his normal, sickly self.

Doctor Erskine was before him then, smiling proudly, "Well done, Tony."

Tony inhaled deeply for the first time and waited for the usual rattle of his lungs - but his breath was clear. When the truth finally hit full force, it was enough to stagger him. He vaguely registered others approaching, men interested in the project, but all Tony could think was that he was different.

For the first time in his life, things were going right.

Raising his eyes to meet Erskine's gaze, he caught the unknown man's movement too late.

Everything happened so fast – the gun, the shot, Abraham Erskine falling.

Stunned, Tony fell to his knees beside the wounded man, unable to voice his anguish.

"Tony," the doctor wheezed through bloodied lips. "You're going to be great," the man gasped out before slumping in Tony's arms.

Emotions rising in his chest, Tony set his jaw; people were panicking, firing guns at the assassin. Without a thought he was up and running.

-#-#-#-

_France -1944_

"Are you sure I can't talk you out of this?" Howard yelled over the whir of the plane's engine.

Tony half grinned as he cinched up his parachute, "When have you ever been able to talk me out of anything?"

"Good point," Howard returned as he glanced back and fired off a small salute. "Don't die, little brother."

Tony returned the salute, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline, a nervous excitement in the pit of his stomach. After months of peddling bonds, stupid shows, and the hated costume, he was finally going to do something.

He was going to save his best friend.

Taking a breath he pulled on his helmet and fastened it. Outside tracer rounds lit up the night sky. "Get out of here as soon as I'm out, brother." With that he was falling into blackness.

-#-#-#-

_Switzerland – 1944_

"Fuck, it's cold," Lieutenant James Rhodes griped, wrapping his arms tighter around his shivering frame in an effort to gain some more warmth.

"Oh, really?" the other man mumbled with a half smile.

Rhodey sent his companion a half-hearted glare, "What are you doing anyway? Aren't we supposed to be doing recon?"

The dark haired man chuckled, "We have. They have a rotating guard patrol; it passes by every fifteen minutes."

Rhodes narrowed his eyes, "Then why the hell are we still in this hole freezing our asses off?"

"Because in an hour we are going to storm in there and burn that Hydra base to the ground."

There was a beat of thoughtful silence. "Good plan."

The man known as Captain America finally looked up at his long time friend, "You have a better one?"

James finally managed a grin, "Nope." The lieutenant of the Howling Commandos gave his long-time friend a lingering glance. Even after all these months he was still having problems reconciling the Tony Stark he knew to this Captain America. When he'd last seen his friend, Tony had been a ninety pound asthmatic. Now… now he was the epitome of human perfection.

Rhodey watched as his partner shifted around, careful of his shield as he fished a cigarette out of his pouch. The lighter made a faint click as he put the flame to the tip before taking a long breath and exhaling blue smoke into the frosty night air.

Done watching Tony, Rhodey found his eyes rolling skyward as the other man turned back to the sketchbook in his hands, cigarette clamped between his lips. "Think this war will ever end?" James asked aloud, unsure if he was looking for an answer or not.

Tony looked up from his sketch once more, taking a moment to contemplate the question, feeling only the faintest touch of cold on his skin. His now serum-enhanced body didn't seem all that bothered with extreme temperatures; he still hadn't figured out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"It'll end," he said, finally answering his friend's question. A long-fingered hand rubbed against his jaw unconsciously, feeling the stubble of his normally neatly trimmed facial hair.

"You don't sound all that certain," Rhodes returned, still staring upwards at the endless night sky.

Sighing heavily, Tony finished off the last of his smoke and stubbed out the end in the dirt before he too looked upwards.

"I am certain this war will end, Rhodey," he said, his breath puffing out before him. "I'm just not certain when the next will start."

-#-#-#-

_Somewhere over the Arctic - 1945 _

"Tony, hold on, I'll get Howard!" the voice crackled back at him from the console of the Hydra ship.

Tony Stark glanced grimly out at the white expanse before him. "No… the only chance is if I put this down now," he replied, feeling nothing but resigned determination. His muscles strained to hold the controls as he pointed the nose straight down.

"Please, Tony," Pepper's voice sounded distant now as wind and blood rushed past his ears.

A small smile pulled at his lips, "Pepper, you want to go dancing with me?" he asked, the churning water below him looming larger by the moment.

Static hissed back at him for a heartbeat. "Stork Club, eight o'clock. Don't be late."

With the water impossibly close now, Captain America grinned. The impact was bone jarring as he snapped forward, then back in the seat, icy water suddenly pouring in from all sides.

His last conscious thought was a silent apology for a date he'd never make.


	2. Part II

Author's Note: Wow the reception on this one has been awesome thank you so much I'm glad everyone is enjoying it! In this part we are meeting Steve and I didn't want to rehash two movies worth of stuff so here's sort of the condensed down bit.

Many thanks to ravingbeauty for getting this beta'd for me! Enjoy!

That Had Such People

Part II - **We know what we are, but not what we may be.**

Malibu – 2010

_He'd never thought it would hurt this much to die. His chest burned, his body ached. Christ, why did it have to hurt?_

"_Hold on, Mr. Rogers," a soothing voice whispered in the fevered darkness of his mind. How do you know me? he wants to ask, but the words stick in his raw throat. _

"_The world knows you, Mr. Rogers, and they too know who you are." _

"_Who are they?" he manages to croak._

"_They call themselves the Ten Rings, and they wish you to make them weapons, Mr. Rogers."_

"_Steve, call me Steve."_

"_And I am Yinsen." _

_His chest ached all the time, a constant throb reminding him he was a prisoner. Each breath was agony, and the cave so cold and dark; he cradled the car battery close for warmth. He could fix this; he was sure he could. He was Steve fucking Rogers – he could fix anything._

_Anything but his relationship with father… _

"_What is that?"_

"_It's a miniature arc reactor. I have a big one powering my factory at home. It should keep the shrapnel out of my heart." _

_The curious man gently touched the pulsing blue glow, "What does it generate?"  
_

"_If my math is right, and it always is, three gigajoules per second."_

_Impressed, Yinsen looked at him over his glasses, "That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes…"_

_Normally cold features pulled into a half grin, "Yeah, or something bigger for fifteen minutes." _

_He could do this. He could get them out. He just needed to stick to the plan. _

_He could have saved them. Why didn't he stick to the plan? _

"_We were supposed to get out together. There was a plan."_

"_It's ok, Steve. I'm going to see my family." Yinsen smiled softly, his eyes misty and far away, "Don't waste it, don't waste your life…"_

_That hot, endless ache burned in his chest; he almost wished he had died. _

Steve woke with a start, that constant ache flaring to life with a vengeance.

Moaning softly, he straightened as his back protested his choice of sleeping position. Blearily he glanced around the darkened lab, at the holo screen flickering dimly nearby, telling him things he already knew.

"Steve, you down here?" a familiar and unwelcome voice called.

Shifting, Steve grunted as fire lanced across his front. "Here," he choked out as he stumbled from the car; he needed to change the core.

Suddenly warm hands were on his shoulders, "You ok, man?"

Steve pulled away, shaking his head, "Fine, Bucky. I'm fine."

His life-long friend frowned, "You don't look fine."

Slumping against the console, Steve reached under his shirt and snapped out the reactor with a pained groan. Holding up the thing keeping him alive, he listlessly examined the smoking core.

"Jesus, Steve, you had that in your chest?"

Bucky sounded horrified, but Steve Rogers, former CEO of Rogers-Stark Industries, just gave his friend a twisted smile. With a few deft movements he popped in a new core and took a shuddering breath.

"Peggy's worried about you," Barnes tried. "Says you haven't been yourself lately. Giving a lot of things away."

"Not everything," he finally replied, accepting the smoothie DUM-E brought over.

"I'm worried about you, too," Bucky admitted, dark eyes taking in everything about his friend – from his unnatural pallor and slumped posture to his desolate eyes and the strange marks creeping up his neck.

"It's nothing, Bucky, really," he said, his tone bordering on defeated. He had survived Afghanistan and Stane, and now the one thing that had given him purpose, the one thing that gave him meaning… was killing him.

"Does this have anything to do with that high-tech crossword on your neck?" Bucky asked, pulling the collar of Steve's shirt lower, taking in the marks with worried eyes.

Steve pulled away. "Why can't you leave it?" he asked softly, trying to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice.

They were silent for a few tense moments before the sergeant relented. Heaving a weary sigh, Bucky clapped his friend gently on the back, "We just want to help, Steve…"

Absently the blond patted the reassuring hand and Bucky gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Peg and I are upstairs," he offered as he turned to leave.

Eyes closing in anguish, Steve waited until he heard the lab door click before slumping forward to rest his head on the workbench. He knew they only wanted to help him. There were only two people in this entire world he'd allowed into his life, and now it was best if he just pushed them away.

He'd spent his life building walls around himself; he had been a businessman, cold and ruthless. A merchant of death, his empire had been built upon the blood legacy of Howard and his father. His personal assistant Miss Margaret Carter – Peggy – had always said he was workaholic.

He felt a bitter grin twist his lips; that was before.

Before Afghanistan, before his hardware, before he became Iron Man.

His life had changed in an instant. The weapons he'd been so proud of had been the ones killing innocent people. He'd been disgusted by his own naivety, and vowed to change it.

He'd been given a purpose in his life. For the first time he could stand to look at himself in the mirror. He was helping people, changing things for the better… _He_ was changing for the better. Until the one thing keeping him alive began to kill him.

"JARVIS?"

The AI hesitated only a nanosecond before replying, "Blood toxicity at 83%, sir."

Steve Rogers, billionaire, genius, philanthropist...

Iron Man was running out of time.

-#-#-#-

"What do you want, Fury?" Steve asked tightly, staring at the one-eyed director of SHIELD. He'd never gotten on well with the man; they seemed to have a difference of opinion as to who and what Iron Man should be.

"You signed your company over to your girl, gave all your stuff away, and let your best friend steal your suit," the man said calmly, settling into the one of the few remaining chairs in his now destroyed mansion.

Steve clenched his jaw and sank into a chair across from him. As he ran a hand through already disheveled hair, the ache in his neck reminded him that the relief from the hot, fevered, agony of the poison slowly killing him was only temporary.

"What do you remember about your father? About his friend Howard Stark?" Fury continued, looking completely unconcerned about the destruction around him.

Steve snorted, face falling into his usual cool mask. "Howard I barely remember; he died when I was about six or seven. And dad… dad was a cold man. Don't think he even liked me. Sent me off to boarding school as soon as he could."

Nick gave him a half grin, "That's not true. Howard Stark and Joseph Rogers were founding members of SHIELD. Howard and your father were working on that unfinished tech of yours."

"Unfinished until I miniaturized it and put in my chest," Steve stated flatly.

"No," Fury cut in, his tone one would use with a small child. "Unfinished. Neither was able to find a way to stabilize the reactor. After Howard died Joseph was able to develop something, but he said he was limited by the technology of his time."

Fury stood, eyes scanning the distant horizon as he clasped his arms behind his back. "He said it would start an energy race to rival the arms race, make that reactor in your factory look like an AA battery… And he left it unfinished."

The man in black turned to him then, pinning him with his single eye, "He had faith that you would be the one to make it work."

Steve felt his jaw drop, mouth working as he tried to come up with something to say. He always knew what to say; Peggy said it was one of his more annoying qualities.

"Well good luck, Rogers. I have bigger problems than you right now."

Disbelief and stunned realization warred in the genius's head as the Director of SHIELD strode away.

"Oh, and Rogers… if you live through this, and Vanko… we'll talk again."

Snorting, the blond looked down at his bare feet. If he lived through this… "Think I'll live just to spite him."

-#-#-#-

"Well, Mr. Rogers, here we are," Nick Fury said as he settled before the impeccably dressed man clicking away on his phone, designer sunglasses perched atop perfectly coiffed blond hair.

A small half grin crossed the handsome blond's face. "Indeed, Director Fury," he replied as he glanced up at the man, a brow arching in defiance. "Hoping that if the palladium didn't get me, Vanko would?"

The Director's tone was dry as dust. "You have no idea," he replied as he tossed a file onto the table, folding his arms casually across his chest.

A hand reached out and opened it curiously. "What is this?" he asked as his blue eyes scanned the words on the page.

"It's Agent Romanov's report," Fury said, his expression carefully neutral. "On whether or not you would be a good candidate for a little project I have in mind."

"Shallow, unstable, issues committing, textbook inferiority complex, father issues…" he trailed off, reading the rest quickly. "Iron Man approved for project, Steve Rogers denied." He looked up at the other man with a frown, "How does that work?"

Shrugging, Fury held the man's gaze, "It doesn't matter. What matters is we have decided not to bring Iron Man in on the project." He didn't miss the barely discernable flicker of disappointment in the blue eyes. "Instead, we'd like to ask you to consult."

Steve had no idea what to say, but he'd always been one to rally quickly. "I'm not sure you could afford me, Nick," he said smoothly, leaning back and trying to look flippant.

The Director uncrossed his arms and leaned forward on the table, "As hard as it may be for you to believe, Rogers, you are neither the only, nor the biggest pain in my ass."

"Damn, and I try so hard," Steve muttered sarcastically.

The head of SHIELD pressed on, "There are bigger things happening, Rogers – bigger than SHIELD, bigger than Iron Man. A day of reckoning is coming, and we're going to have to pick a side."

Fury gave him a long, probing look, "The question, Steve, is what side are you going to be on?"

-#-#-#-

New York – 2012

He woke slowly, feeling sluggish, as if he'd been sleeping for a very long time. He blinked, trying to bring the world into focus. Dark eyes panned the room as he painfully sat upright. Large hands briefly touched his chest, pulling at the tight t-shirt, listening to the mumble of the radio.

It felt wrong.

It all felt wrong.

Frowning, he glanced up as the door opened and a woman walked in. She wasn't right either.

"Captain Stark," she said, smiling at him. It was the practiced smile of someone who was trying very hard not to show how nervous they were.

"What's going on?" he asked, immediately moving off the bed, expanded to his full height of six foot two.

"It's ok, Captain," she tried to soothe, holding out her hands placatingly.

"No, it's not," he said, all but growling. "This is wrong, all wrong. You, this place, and that game," he pointed unseeing at the radio. "I was at that game."

The fear flickered in her eyes and Tony sprang into action. Dodging past her, he broke through the door and into some kind of building. Dark eyes widened as he spun in disbelief.

"Captain Stark! Get him!" voices yelled as the pounding of boots echoed down the hall.

They were coming for him; Tony needed to get out. Spinning, he ran with everything he had. His world narrowed to nothing except the need to get away. He dodged blurred figures and ran through more doors, never pausing until his bare feet connected with something hard.

Stuttering in his stride, he looked up and froze as he finally registered his surroundings. The world was all light, color, blurs, and the noise… his keen senses were suddenly overwhelmed. What was going on? His breathing labored as he gasped for air, lungs burning.

"At ease, solider," a voice called.

Blinking, Tony looked towards the source, realizing he was surrounded. Dark eyes darted, mapping escape routes, as he planned his attack… just as he always had.

"It's ok, Cap. You're ok. You've been asleep a long time."

The words took a long moment to register; Tony swallowed thickly against the bile wanting to rise in his throat.

"How long?" he managed, watching warily as the man approached.

"Seventy years, Cap," he replied gently, coming to parade rest before him.

There was a sudden terrible ringing in his ears. It was by will alone that the super solider remained upright as he again looked upwards at the harsh gleam of metal and lights. He choked down his horror.

"Are you ok, Cap?"

Feeling a little light-headed and more than a little heartsick, he turned back to the man, utterly lost.

"Yeah, I just… had a date."


	3. Part III

Author's Note: Next part! It's a long one I wanted to cover the entirety of the Avengers movie just want to set the scene for the rest of the story. I promise the romance is coming, this one is really a slow build will adjust text to reflect.

Thanks so much for all the support, and to my wonderful fabulous ravingbeauty for all her work and making me look so good! Enjoy!

That Has Such People

Part III – **Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.**

"Sir, Agent Coulson is on the phone," JARVIS announced, his voice smooth and unwelcome.

Steve groaned as he welded the last of the pipeline. "I'm not in, JARVIS," he replied before switching channels.

"Peg, we ready?"

This time it was a woman's silky voice that replied, tinted with British flavor, "Indeed Steven, we are ready."

Grinning, Iron Man finished his work before launching out of the water and back into the air.

"Sir, Agent Coulson is insisting-"

Steve snorted, cutting him off. "He's always insisting on something," the billionaire mumbled as he touched down atop the new Rogers-Stark tower, a beacon in the New York City skyline.

"Sir," the AI tried again.

"Mute," he snapped, glaring at the ceiling.

Now free of his armor, the billionaire ran a hand through short blond hair as he descended the stairs. "How we looking?" he asked his CEO, joining her at the projection table.

"It's beautiful, Steven," she breathed, turning to him with a grin. The normally well-dressed woman casual tonight in a loose blouse and denim shorts. Thick dark hair curled becomingly about her shoulders as red lips quirked in a smile at her former employer.

"Of course it is, I designed it," he said, tossing her a wink.

Arching a perfect brow, she turned back to the schematics hovering before them. Standing side-by-side, they were just getting into a discussion of the latest improvements when the elevator doors dinged open and a very unwelcome figure stepped out.

"Security breach," Steve said, narrowing blue eyes at the Agent.

"Sorry, sir. He does have override codes." JARVIS didn't sound all that sorry.

He turned his blue glare on Peggy. "Traitor," he accused.

The woman smiled at him indulgently, "SHIELD only wants to help."

Dismissing the petulant man, she turned to greet the newcomer. "Hello, Philip. How are you?" she asked, coming forward to kiss each cheek.

"Doing well, Peggy, and you?" he asked, smiling at her charmingly.

Steve frowned, "When did you become Philip? What do you want, Agent?"

All business now, Agent Coulson focused on the owner of RSI. "There is a bit of situation, Mr. Rogers."

The blond snorted and crossed his arms, "My official consulting hours are between four and six, every other Thursday."

Coulson, as always, did not look the least bit amused as he held out a black file.

Carefully Steve looked from the unassuming object to the agent and back, growing worried. This could only mean bad things. He hesitantly accepted the file, his expression turning grim.

"What's going on, Steven?" Peggy asked softly, looking between them.

Without a word, he turned and headed for his holo screens. Deftly opening the file, Steve sent the digital information skittering across the monitors, watching as a seemingly endless stream of data poured forth.

Keen blue eyes moved fluidly between the projections. A man with a bow stood back to back with a familiar redhead. A giant green monster voiced his fury and a man with a hammer called forth lightening. The last, though, captured his attention fully; it was grainy black and white footage of a man with a shield.

Steve felt his breath hitch; they had found him?

"I thought the program was terminated," Steve said, eyes darting back to the impassive agent.

"It was. As far as SHIELD is concerned this program never existed."

Margaret Carter wasn't CEO of RS Industries for nothing; she knew something big and ugly was rearing its head. "I think I'll head out to D.C. tonight. Philip, can you drop me at the airport?"

The agent nodded and the woman moved to the blond man's side, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. "Be safe, Steven," she pleaded.

Steve gave her a distracted flippant smile, "Aren't I always?"

-#-#-#-

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't smoke on the jet," the placid voice reminded him gently. Tony Stark wrinkled his nose, self-consciously removing the cigarette from his mouth.

"Right. Sorry, habit," he mumbled. With a frown creasing his brow, he returned the cigarette to the pack unlit. It was one of the more frustrating and annoying quirks of this new time; there were only certain places you could smoke. Apparently it was bad for you. While Tony wasn't quite sure he believed that yet, he reluctantly recognized it was the way of things now.

"I imagine this time takes some getting used to," the other spoke hesitantly, offering him a small conciliatory smile.

Tony eyed the man curiously; he'd introduced himself as Agent Coulson, another one of SHIELD's seemingly endless supply of agents.

"That's putting it mildly," Tony returned with a sad grin, his eyes falling away from the keen stare of the other.

Tony had seen the term "culture shock" among the readings he'd been doing ever since SHIELD had cornered him in Times Square. Truthfully, though, the term didn't even come close to touching what he had.

Secretly he was thankful he'd been engineered a super solider, because he honestly didn't think his mind and body would have been able to handle it otherwise. Still, all things considered, he thought he was adapting rather well. There was just so much more of everything now, and for every timid step he took, he was also making leaps and bounds.

"I don't want to sound to weird or anything, but I'm sort of a big fan… I mean, I have some of your original comics," the agent blurted suddenly into the awkward silence.

Tony curiously raised a brow at him, a half grin on his face. "The real thing not living up to expectations?" he asked dryly, not all that offended; he was used to it by now. People had certain expectations of what Captain America would be like, a persona the world had come to expect. Tony was all too aware of how the comic books portrayed him… Hell, he'd been the one drawing them half the time.

"No!" the Agent blurted then belatedly realized the actual question before backtracking. "I mean, yes…"

Tony took pity on him, "It's ok, Agent Coulson. I'm used to it." He offered the man a tight smile and the other man looked torn between relief and embarrassment.

Minutes later they were touching down and Tony stepped off to the hustle and bustle of a carrier ship. Intrigued, he glanced around, fingers itching to put pencil to paper. Something about this time made him yearn to draw almost constantly.

Dark eyes trying to memorize every detail, he paused as he spotted a man dazedly stumbling around on the deck. He mentally called up the personnel files he'd been forced to read.

"Dr. Banner," he called, making the connection. Fury had been very thorough in his briefing, including the man who had tried to replicate Erskine's serum with rather disastrous consequences. Tony was secretly dying to meet the Hulk. Holding out his hand, he offered the doctor a smile.

"Oh hello, do I know you?" the scientist asked, peering at the tall, dark haired man curiously.

"Captain Tony Stark," he said shaking the man's hand.

Hazel eyes blinked in surprise. "Captain America," he said with an almost awed grin. "I didn't recognize you without the…" Banner trailed off looking embarrassed.

"Without being wrapped in the American flag?" he joked dryly, earning him a half grin.

The doctor tugged off his glasses then gestured around. "I guess this must be pretty new then," he said.

Tony chuckled, "No, this is actually rather familiar."

"Gentlemen, I think you'd better step inside," the redheaded woman, Natasha, interrupted. Tony reckoned she was a dame not to be messed with.

Heeding her warning, Tony turned with Banner and the pair fell into step as they followed Natasha to the waiting Nick Fury. All the while, Tony was trying very hard not to gawk at everything around him. When it came technology, he had always been far too curious for his own good. Howard had constantly told him so, usually while he was chastising him for fooling around with things in his lab.

The thought of his brother brought an acute pang of homesickness and loneliness with it. One of the first things Tony had done in this new time was look up his loved ones. Pepper had died several years ago, an old woman, married, with children and grandchildren… He hoped she had lived a happy life.

Howard had neither married nor had children, tragically dying before his time. Tony had been heartbroken; his brother had deserved every happiness in the world. The life he'd led had seemed to him a far too lonely one.

The last had been Joe Rogers, his brother's partner. Sadly both he and his wife had passed away in a tragic accident. Joe, however, had a son… a son who was a superhero. Tony really couldn't wait to meet the "Iron Man."

"Welcome to the SHIELD Helicarrier, built by Steve Rogers," Fury formally welcomed the two as they stepped onto the bridge. Tony perked up; of course he had built it. The son of Joe Rogers had to be a genius.

Suitably impressed, the man from the past wandered over to one of the monitors, consciously clasping his hands behind his back. All the while Howard's voice was ringing in his head,

_Tony, don't touch… For the love of god, don't touch anything! _

Ignoring the sad pull in his chest, Tony curiously studied the fascinating technology before him. Fury was still talking, explaining the finer details of the ship to Doctor Banner. Tony knew he should be paying attention, he really should… but there was a button.

Buttons had always been and probably always would be his downfall – especially in this new world that seemed to be made up of nothing but – and this one was calling his name. He surreptitiously glanced at the others from the corner of his eye. Slowly he reached out one large digit.

"I wouldn't, Cap," Tony froze at the Director's reprimand, a flush creeping up his neck at getting caught. "I have no idea what it does, but knowing Rogers it could make the whole damn ship fall out of the sky."

Tony tried to smother his smile; that sounded like something Howard and Joe would have done. They'd once put a highly sticky epoxy in his helmet; he'd had to shave his head after that one.

Hands behind his back once more, he gave Fury his full attention, wearing the most innocent face he could muster. Bruce gave him a warm smile.

-#-#-#-

Captain America couldn't stop staring.

He probably should, it was rather rude, but honestly he just couldn't. Tony had never seen anything like it in his life. The file photos really hadn't done it any justice, for in reality Iron Man was something indescribable.

_He'd been going head to head with Loki, and truthfully enjoying it. This was familiar; this was something he could do. He could fight, even if he hadn't been keen on getting back to Germany so soon. Still, it was nice to feel useful again, even if it wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. _

_He was in the middle of reformulating his strategy when suddenly there was music, or what he guessed passed for music these days. _

_A new voice spoke over the device in his ear – and wasn't that the bee's knees! If only they'd had these "communication links" in his day._

"_You miss me, Agent Romanov?" _

_The voice was pleasant, deep. It got Tony's attention immediately. _

_He had the barest of seconds to glance up when suddenly someone, or something, landed beside him. Red and gold glittered as the man in armor straightened, arms coming up as he veritably bristled with weapons. _

"_Your move, Reindeer Games," he said, voice sounding tinny and different through the metal helmet. _

_Slowly Loki held his arms up as Tony tried not to stare at the man in the metal suit. _

"_Mr. Rogers," he ventured. _

"_Captain," the other returned. _

Now heading back to the carrier, prisoner in tow, Tony was able to get a better look at the suit and, more intriguing, the man inside.

Steve Rogers was what, in his day, they would have called a looker. Short blond hair and clear, intelligent blue eyes that didn't appear to miss a thing.

Tony felt that damnable blush creeping up his neck as those intense blues turned to him, roving over his form. The dark haired man fought down the urge to cross his arms, unconsciously straightening his spine.

At the same moment it was taking everything Steve had to play it cool and aloof while his emotions were in utter upheaval. He was meeting his childhood hero, a legend – the man he'd worshipped since he was a kid. He could still remember Uncle Howard's stories, hazy and indistinct, detailing incredible tales of heroics.

At the same time, however, this was the man his father had spent his life searching for – the man he'd never been able to live up to.

It was a frustrating, confusing ball of emotions, and he did not want to deal with it. So he did what he did best – he closed down.

"So you're him, Captain America," he all but scoffed. Steve had to admit the man wasn't quite what he'd imagined. Sure he was big, tall, and impressive looking. He had a good five inches on Steve himself, but he wasn't the apple pie, all-American he would expect. Even wearing the red, white, and blue, he kind of came off dangerous and badass. Steve wasn't at all sure how to deal with that.

"And you're the _amazing_ Iron Man," the big dark haired man returned, his grin far too sarcastic for Steve's liking.

Frowning, the billionaire lifted a hand and pointed, ready to let the man have it, when he was shocked into silence. Without hesitation a red-gloved hand grabbed his armored arm curiously, moving it up and down, dark eyes fascinated.

"What are you…" Steve began, stunned, trailing off as the Cap moved on to examine his chest, touching the blue light curiously.

Steve jerked away instinctively. "What the hell, man? What's your problem?" he snapped.

Tony dropped his hands, clutching them behind his back, his neck beginning to flush as he tried to wrack his brain for something to say. He'd just been so curious about the armor. A sudden crack of thunder however, diverted any of the excuses coming to his mind. Tony turned towards their prisoner, catching the god's flinch.

"Afraid of a little lightening?" he asked, puzzled by the god's suddenly worried look.

"It's what comes after that worries me," he returned, glancing towards the windows.

Brows knitting in confusion, Tony was about to demand an answer when all hell broke loose.

-#-#-#-

Tony was out of his depth.

It wasn't really a new feeling to him, though. Howard and Joe had talked circles around him for years, and he'd long ago given up trying to keep up with the brilliant men. Usually he'd amuse himself by sketching them when they really got going.

Now some seventy years in the future, he was getting that same feeling watching Steve Rogers interact with Dr. Banner. Still, he couldn't be all that mad because Steve was something to see when he was on a roll. It made him ache for home, for the people he'd lost.

Which would perhaps explain why he found himself following the two men into the lab. It was at once both heart wrenchingly familiar and completely alien to him. Melancholy and intrigued, he listened the pair as they argued and bantered, grinning unintentionally when Steve gave Bruce a sharp poke.

"Not sure that's a good idea," he interjected, automatically fishing out a cigarette from his pack. Clamping the stick between his lips he was pulling out his lighter when a strangled noise had him glancing up. The two geniuses were gawking at him, wide-eyed.

"That's a worse idea," Steve returned and Tony felt his neck heat.

"Right, sorry," he grumbled mulishly as he put the lighter away. "Keep forgetting."

Running an irritated hand through his hair, he cleared his throat self-consciously and changed the topic. "So, you can find the tesseract?" he asked.

Bruce looked about to answer when Steve beat him to it.

"We'll find it, only a matter of time. The question of the hour, though, is what is Fury's interest in this?" the blond asked, rounding one of the machines that looked like something right out a science fiction novel.

Intrigued, Tony watched him manipulate the thing. He couldn't help but notice the man; now stripped down to a black t-shirt and jeans, the material of his shirt provided a taunting glimpse at the light beneath.

"Fury?" Tony asked, perplexed.

"Yeah, Cap. Something stinks here. You think so, too. Don't you, Bruce?" Steve asked, turning on the scientist.

The rather docile man shrugged noncommittally, "Look, I just want to do my work…"

Tony felt that damnable curiosity flaring up in him again. "Bruce?" he asked.

Sighing, the scientist looked at him over the top of his glasses. "Come on, Tony. I mean, doesn't it seem a little hinky to you?"

"Doesn't matter. I have JARVIS cracking their files, so we'll know shortly," Steve said airily, eyes focused on the screen.

Humming contemplatively, Tony nodded before turning on his heels; they were making a lot of sense.

-#-#-#-

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Steve nearly fell out of the sky in shock.

"Stupid, fucking, cock sucking -"

Although there was really nothing funny about the Helicarrier plummeting out of the sky, Steve had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. And it was completely Captain America's fault. Apparently the paragon of American virtue cussed like a sailor.

Steve, who'd been there, done that, was mighty impressed. The litany of filth spilling from that man's mouth was enough to make a grown man blush. Captain America, as Steve was learning, had two very different sides to him.

"Cap," he called, interrupting his current tirade. "I need to get the supercooling conductor system back online, clear out the debris-"

"Speak fucking English," Tony cut in.

"Listen, just get over to that control panel and tell me what relays are on the overload position," Steve ordered as he hovered, hauling debris out of the way, keeping half an ear out as Tony grumbled and cursed his way over.

"Got it," Cap said before another blasphemy fell from his lips.

"What does it look like?" Steve grunted, pushing things back into place.

"How the hell should I know? I'm from 1945, it looks like a bunch of goddamn blinking lights."

Steve couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up this time, "Well, you're not wrong."

Tony felt a grin pulling at his own lips; he was beginning to like Iron Man. Sure he was prickly, standoffish, and rude, but there was something about him. Shaking his head, he tried to focus. There'd be time for that later, after they saved the ship… and the world.

Steve managed to walk him through the process before making a rather insane announcement.

"I'll need to start the rotors manually," he said, more to himself than Tony.

"Right. Wait... what? That'll tear you apart."

"I've got a small window where the polarity can be-"

"English," Tony interrupted impatiently.

"When I say to pull that red lever, you do it."

Tony glanced across the empty space to the spot where the lever stood. "Got it." He took a running leap and hit the deck, tucking and rolling, right into the line of enemy fire. Surging to his feet, he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, of battle. This he knew, this was familiar…

He could hear Steve mumbling in his ear as he dodged towards the enemy, managing to flatten one before another appeared, guns blazing. Cursing, he ducked, formulating an alternative plan.

A sudden terrible grinding sound reminded him Steve was kick starting the motor. As his attention wavered, the whole carrier shook, sending Tony pitching backwards, falling into empty space. He twisted in midair and grabbed a trailing wire, holding grimly on as he dangled over nothingness.

"Ok, Tony. Pull that lever," came the voice in his ear.

The super solider didn't reply as he hauled himself slowly upwards, trying to ignore his rising panic.

"Tony, any time now."

He grunted, sweat breaking out on his brow, "Need a minute."

There was a muffled curse, "That's not good..."

Tony pushed harder, straining to get to the lever; Steve was counting on him. "Come on!" he yelled at himself as he heaved himself over the side and onto the ruined deck. A bullet pinged by his head. Undeterred, he grabbed the red lever and pulled it quickly, ducking away as another bullet ricocheted by him.

Seconds later a red and gold and blur streaked past him taking out the last of the enemy. Shocked Tony blinked, before swinging off the platform and down beside the suit of armor lying motionless on the ground.

Hunkering down, he tapped the helmet. "Ok?" he asked.

"Dandy," Steve moaned.

Chuckling, the man clad in red, white, and blue settled beside him on the torn deck. He sighed and pulled out a cigarette; he figured he was outside enough. Lighting up, he exhaled blue smoke, glancing at his companion as the expressionless metal helmet turned to him.

"That's bad for you," he mumbled.

Tony snorted and puffed away, eyes looking out across the vast blue sky, "So is getting shot at on a regular basis."

Steve let his head clink back against the debris strewn floor, "Touché."

-#-#-#-

Truth be told, he was just as surprised as anyone they lived through it.

Dazed and disheveled, Tony Stark stood amidst the rubble and ruin, supporting the frustrating, intriguing Steve Rogers. New York had taken a bad blow, but, by god, it was still standing and so were they – this new, impossible team he had somehow acquired.

Steve was babbling dazedly about getting food, going out to eat. Tony grunted in agreement as he shifted closer, wrapping a big arm around the armored waist.

"First we need to see to Loki," Thor thundered. "He has much to answer for."

Tony snorted in agreement, his sentiment echoed by the Hulk. Damn, but that big green guy was amazing. Tony would go to battle any day with him at his back. Hell, he'd go to battle with any of them.

Feeling the billionaire sag against him tiredly, Tony shook his head. That damned ass had saved them all. Slowly they moved towards the tower, the soldier pulling Steve as close as he could.


	4. Part IV

Author's Note: Here we are next installment, I'm sort of falling in love with Cap Tony not going to lie. He's kind of the best of himself, while still being real if that makes any sense at all. This story if turning into a labour of love for sure, and I hope to start to get into the romance soon. For sure be prepared for some Clint/Bruce feels coming soon!

For now enjoy and thank you ravingbeauty for her wonderful work.

That Has Such People

Part IV – Such as we are made of, such we be.

6 months later - Somewhere in the Midwest

The light was fading fast.

Dark eyes squinted, trying to make out the lines on the paper propped up against his knees. As the last of the waning light disappeared, the man gave up and sighed, settling his broad back against the sun-warmed rock where he was perched.

Groaning faintly, Tony Stark stretched stiff muscles as his eyes studied the picturesque view before him. Darkness was beginning to blanket the deep green valley that rolled into the rocky mountains. The moon hung full and heavy, illuminating the basin below.

It had been six months… Six whole months since they had saved the world, and Tony was still trying to come to terms with everything.

Following the battle of New York, the backlash had been staggering. He'd thought fame had been something in his day, but it had nothing on this new time. He'd seen the videos and endless media coverage, not only on televisions, but also on computers and phones… It seemed like everyone had a story or opinion about that day.

And in the midst of it all, the Avengers – a newly formed team, just starting out. It was the infancy of something remarkable… and then they had just scattered to the four winds.

Thor had taken Loki back to face justice in Asgard. Clint and Tasha had returned to SHIELD and whatever it was that they usually did. And the last time Tony had seen Steve and Bruce, they'd been in deep conversation, heading back to what was left of the Rogers-Stark Tower.

Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone except the man out of time, at least.

Fury had returned his old motorcycle to him, a pleasant and welcome surprise. The gesture had come with an invitation for Tony to go see the country, experience what he'd missed, discover this new America he was fighting for.

His motivation to do so, however, was not nearly so noble. The truth was that he had nothing better to do. He felt so lost and directionless, and more than a little homesick for his own time. He may have won the battle, but his own private war was just beginning.

At the time Tony had been rather detached from the situation, trying not to think past tomorrow. He just tried to stay in the moment, the day, and worry about the rest later. And while a lot was fuzzy, he did recall a moment just before he'd left with crystal clarity.

"_Hey, Stark!" _

_Tony paused and turned at the sound of his name. Steve stood behind him, looking every inch the professional businessman he was. His grey suit was perfectly tailored to his form, blond locks meticulously styled. It was a shame dark glasses hid those beautiful blue eyes. _

"_I, umm… wanted to give you something," the billionaire said, handing over a thick plastic card and something black and rectangular that Tony recognized as a cell phone. _

"_This is a RSI card, no limit. Feel free to use it whenever," Steve explained. Then he held up the phone, "And this has all the numbers you'll need, Cap. When you get tired of seeing the world, we'll be here." _

_Surprised, and more than a little touched by the gesture, Tony accepted the items._

"_Well, see you around, Cap. Good luck with your road trip," the man said, turning with a jaunty wave. _

_Tony watched him go, feeling rather settled and centered for the first time since the battle. _

He still held onto that feeling all these months later.

Smiling softly, Tony pulled out the device he'd been given, expertly checking the time. It had taken him the better part of a month to figure out how the thing worked. In the process he'd learned that the world seemed to run on these tiny devices. He could almost hear Howard laughing at him.

Howard. Hell, he'd love to be here. Tony felt his heart twist in his chest at the thought. "You're probably getting a kick out of this, aren't you, brother?" he mumbled.

Watching the stars twinkle brightly amidst the inky black, his mind wandered restlessly over the last half year. He'd learned a lot by crossing the country over the last six months – both good and bad. It was still rather overwhelming to him. Despite his work with the Avengers, he still felt utterly useless. This new, high speed, shock and awe America didn't seem to want or need Captain America any more.

And why would they? They had superheroes for their own time – heroes like Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and even Thor.

Tony was laboring under no delusions; he knew he was a relic of a bygone era. He didn't even stand a snowflake's chance in hell of figuring out the 21st century. Hell, he had barely been able to keep up with Howard and Joe in his time. And Steve made them both look like amateurs.

Steve.

At the memory of the man he smiled unbidden and looked down at his half-finished drawing; it was a rather heroic pose of Iron Man, hands raised as he blasted away an as of yet unfinished attacking alien.

He'd filled almost three sketchbooks since leaving New York. Drawing had always helped him express his feelings, slowly untangling that knot in his chest. He'd never really been good at vocalizing his feelings, a trait the Stark men had shared. Tony had found his outlet in art, while Howard found his in creating.

Tony loved what he did. He'd always loved being a comic artist before the war. And later, Captain America's adventures had demanded an audience; his life had been better than fiction.

Absently running his fingers over the drawings, he carefully closed the book and looked upwards once more. He wondered what the others were doing. More specifically, he wondered what Steve was doing. Had the brilliant man thought of him these last months? He sure as hell had been thinking of Steve.

One large hand absently reached into his pocket to pull out a half-empty pack of smokes. Sticking one in his mouth, he lit up and exhaled into the cool night air. Watching the glowing tip, he thought of big blue eyes and an over-confident smirk. He'd thought of the man a lot. Probably more than he should.

Tapping ashes on the rock, Tony puffed away as his thoughts drifted aimlessly. He felt like he'd seen and done what he needed to out here. And the truth of it was that his greatest fears had been confirmed; there was really nothing for him anymore.

Everything he'd known… all gone. All he had in this world was a group of unusual people waiting for him in New York.

Carefully stubbing out his cigarette, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, "Maybe it's time to go home."

-#-#-#-

Huffing, Steve Rogers pulled back from his work. He pushed back his shield squinting critically at his weld. Satisfied with the result, he grunted and shifted back to his workbench, where a mug of cooling coffee waited. Sipping the tepid liquid, he found his eyes drifting toward a nearby screen, where a stationary blue dot blinked innocently back at him.

"Captain Stark hasn't moved in several hours, sir," JARVIS stated, his calm tones echoing around the now silent lab.

Frowning, the inventor snorted, "I can feel you judging me, JARVIS."

"I would never, sir," the AI replied smoothly.

A smile twitched Steve's lips as he set the coffee aside. Giving up his pretense, he settled before the monitor and focused on the beacon, a small light that indicated exactly where Tony Stark was at any given moment.

Tony Stark.

The man had been almost constantly on his mind these past six months.

Meeting Captain America had not been what Steve had expected at all. However, he supposed that over the years the man had become more legend than reality. He honestly hadn't been sure what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't the sarcastic, funny, foulmouthed, handsome…

He shook his head sharply and frowned furiously at himself.

"Not good thoughts to have, Rogers," he mumbled, idly scratching at his arc reactor, feeling the now familiar comforting hum against his palm.

Sighing, the billionaire glanced across the lab, idly wondering what Tony was up to. What could possibly be so interesting out there? Steve supposed being asleep for almost seventy years left one with a lot to catch up on. Still, was he planning to come back?

After Loki, he'd managed to tempt Bruce to stay with the promise of a state of the art lab and freedom to do as he pleased. The sometimes rage monster had been happy to accept and, with a presidential pardon in hand, had moved in.

About two weeks after that, Clint Barton had shown up, bag in hand, looking lost and despondent. Natasha had arrived a month later, and Steve hadn't been able to refuse her either. Then, three months ago, Thor had returned to Earth.

Now his once quiet tower was full of life and noise. He tried to pretend he didn't enjoy it.

Still, there was one missing from their number, and Steve felt it acutely.

Captain Tony Stark had gotten them all through Loki, had gotten _him_ through it. When they had been at their worst, when Steve had been at his worst, Tony had been at his best. He could see why men had followed him so unquestioningly. Tony had a charisma about him.

Blue eyes glanced back to the flashing blue light again. Standing, Steve turned and headed back across his lab to where his latest suit modification was in progress. His internal light reflected off the shiny metal surface as he muttered, "When are you coming home, Tony Stark?"

-#-#-#-

Wide brown eyes looked upwards, amazed at the impressive tower. It looked a hell of a lot better than when he'd last seen it. Of course, all of New York looked a lot better than when he'd last seen it. The place had been a wreck, but, as always, this city seemed to bounce back with a vengeance.

Around him, people moved in and out of the glittering structure with purpose, the building alive and well inside the thriving city. Self-consciously, he shifted in his boots and ran a hand through his dark hair. Setting his jaw, he squared his shoulders, "Now or never, Stark."

Taking a breath, he stepped inside and shifted his duffle on his back, tucking his aviators away in his worn leather jacket. Wearing his most charming smile, he walked up to the rather severe lady behind the desk.

"Hello, ma'am," Tony began politely; she immediately pinned him with a glare.

"Yes?" the woman snapped.

Tony maintained his smile. One of the rather unfortunate things about this new century was that it seemed people didn't have time for manners anymore. His mother would have been horrified.

"I'm looking for Mr. Rogers," he continued pleasantly, ignoring her sour attitude.

The well-dressed woman snorted in derision. "You and the rest of the world," she sniped.

Tony held his peace, asking a higher power for patience. "I'm a friend of his. Maybe you could just let him know Tony Stark is here?" he inquired politely.

She blinked for a moment in disbelief, and began to chuckle. "Yeah right, Tony Stark… and I'm the Black Widow," she laughed outright, wiping tears from her eyes. "Go away before I call security."

Tony clenched his jaw, wanting to call the sarcastic woman out on her attitude, to cut her down a peg or two. The words were on the tip of his tongue when he heard his brother in his head once more.

_Let it go, Tony. _

Sighing, he nodded curtly before he turned and made his way out of the building. Once more out on the street, he fished his small phone out of his pocket. Carefully touching the screen to call up his numbers, he tapped the name Steve Rogers and held the phone up to his ear.

He waited for long moments as it rang and rang, until a recording told him to leave a message.

"Hi, Steve. It's, ummm… it's Tony. I'm here in New York – actually outside your tower – they won't let me in." Chuckling mirthlessly, he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. "Ok, that's all," he said, pulling the phone away and hitting the end call button.

Sighing, he tucked the device away and walked over to a small area clustered with benches, where people in smart business ensembles stood around smoking and talking animatedly. Finding an empty spot, he settled down and tugged out his sketchbook. Opening to a fresh page, he paused and pulled out a cigarette of his own.

As he lit up he felt a smile tug at his lips; at least no one was going to give him hell for smoking here.

-#-#-#-

Far above where Tony sat sketching, Steve Rogers was in the midst of a creative peak. With too little sleep, and far too much caffeine driving him, he had been working nonstop. Creating an array of new arrows for Clint, new fabric for Bruce to try next time he had a green moment, a communication system that ideally could withstand Thor's destructive tendencies, and a weapon that would hopefully appeal to the Widow's more discerning tastes.

These incredible fits of creation would take hold of him from one moment to the next, and he'd immerse himself in his lab, shutting out the world. His entire being focused only on the project before him, he would work like a man possessed.

It had always been both his blessing and curse.

He would create the most fantastic things, but often at the cost of his own wellbeing. On more than one occasion, Peg and Bucky had pried him away to deal with the most basic of life's necessities and remind him there was a world outside the one he had built around himself.

Hunched over his armor, Steve was delicately reworking a gauntlet when the deafening music he'd been blasting was suddenly gone, leaving the lab completely silent. Blinking owlishly, the billionaire looked around; he'd expected Peggy to be standing by the door with a frown on her red lips, ready to chastise him.

No one.

Frowning, he looked now upwards. "What gives, JARVIS?"

"Apologies, sir, but I believe there is a situation that you may want to attend to."

Snorting, Steve waved a dismissive hand, "Unless some megalomaniac is attacking the city, I have people who can handle it."

"Sir, no one is attacking the city, but…"

Out of patience at the moment, the blond ran a frustrated hand through his already ruffled hair. "Then what the hell, JARVIS?" he snapped.

Unaffected by his creator's waspish behavior, JARVIS continued, "Captain Stark has attempted to contact you, sir."

Steve froze, "What do you mean?"

"He called you, sir. Shall I play the voicemail?"

"Yes." Steve swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly terribly dry as he listened to a voice he hadn't heard in far too long.

"Hi, Steve. It's, ummm… it's Tony. I'm here in New York – actually outside your tower – they won't let me in." There was a brief pause and he could hear traffic, sounds of the city, and a sad chuckle. "Ok, that's all."

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes widening impossibly as he heard the words, but the message was slow to penetrate. Tony was here. Here, and - "Why the hell they won't let him in?" he roared, turning immediately to head towards the elevators.

"Sir, might I suggest taking a moment to clean up before dealing with the situation," JARVIS said in his usual tones.

Steve frowned. "Why?" he asked, rubbing at red-rimmed eyes.

"To make a bigger impression." The blond grunted; he had a point there. He would make more of an impact suited up.

"What if he leaves?" he mumbled aloud, unaware he'd given voice to his worries.

"I think not, sir. Captain Stark is currently sketching on one of the benches in the designated smoking area, enjoying the beautiful day."

Steve felt a smile curl his lips, "Smoking, of course," he mumbled while shaking his head. "Yeah, ok. Quick shower and change, then I'll deal with this."

-#-#-#-

Tony cocked his head, studying the drawing before him critically. During his travels he'd picked up some comic books finding today's style had changed vastly from the comics he used to do. He loved the realism of it, the grittiness, the detail.

He'd also come across something they called graphic novels. Google had explained to him that graphic novels and manga, phenomena out of Japan, were really catching on. It was a very different, stylized way of drawing. He found it so intriguing he'd been trying his hand at it, mainly trying to capture the Avengers in a stylized way. It was still new to him, but he figured he was adapting pretty well.

Turning the paper, he mumbled to himself about adjusting lines, changing shadows. He was so far in his own little world that he missed the sudden commotion around him. Oblivious to people pointing and whispering, he unconsciously pushed his glasses up his nose as continued his work, only vaguely aware that someone had settled beside him on the bench.

"So, you're back," a familiar voice spoke.

Tony's hand froze as slowly he turned, recognizing the well-dressed man with sunshine blond hair. A slow, easy grin spread unbidden across his face.

"It would appear so," Tony replied, closing his book and settling back against the bench where Steve was lazily sprawled.

"Have fun finding yourself, Cap?" Steve asked, looking unconcerned behind his expensive sunglasses.

Tony shrugged and offered him a half smile, "I guess so."

Chuckling, Steve looked at him over his glasses, "So, shall we go put the fear of God into the person who wouldn't let you in?"

Tony couldn't help the rather malicious feeling of glee that settled over him. "Absolutely." Putting his book away, he stood and shouldered his duffle.

Leading the way, Steve reentered the building, swaggering like he owned it, which he did. The solider followed behind, both anticipating and dreading the upcoming confrontation. He wasn't really a malicious person by nature, but he did believe in the idea that what goes around comes around.

Reaching the counter, Steve pulled his glasses down his nose and pinned the receptionist with an icy glare. The woman looked up, face pinched until she realized who stood before her.

"Are you the one who refused to let this man inside?" he asked briskly, pointing to Tony over his shoulder.

For Tony it was worth it just to see the look of pure terror that settled on her face.

"I, he…" she stuttered, looking stricken.

"Do you have any idea who this is?" Steve continued, seemingly unconcerned with the whole ordeal.

She looked utterly terrified as her bright green eyes locked on his. "You really are him, aren't you…" she managed.

Suddenly the man from the past felt bad for her. Sure, she had been rude, but still… He guessed he was just an old fashioned guy. Sighing, he laid a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve," he muttered; the woman looked ready to beg for her job.

The billionaire cast him a soft look before turning his steely glare back to the receptionist. "You'll be hearing from me, Miss Johnston," he said briskly before turning and striding away.

Tony offered her an apologetic look before he hurried to follow. He just managed to get inside the elevator before the doors slid close.

Steve was already leaning casually against the mirror-covered wall, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Tony joined him, mindful of his weight against the glass. They were silent a moment as the elevator whisked them upwards.

"You're not really going to fire her, are you?" Tony finally asked, unable to help himself.

Steve grinned, "Nah, I'll just let her worry for a while."

Then the doors dinged open and Steve stepped off with a grand gesture, "Welcome home, Cap."


	5. Part V

Author's Note: Here we are next part! Sorry about the wait, busy, busy! This story is a beast of a thing, right now it's sitting about forty some odd pages gah! It's a pretty sweet story though lot of team building, and Tony being a good bro. Look forward to it!

Many thanks to ravingbeauty and her fantastic work on this, we'll see this through to the end.

That Has Such People

Part V – **All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players **

Tony woke with a start, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling above him, as the cries of men and screams of shells slowly faded from his ears. Shaking his dark head clear, he slowly sat up, scanning the unfamiliar room. Gradually recalling he was no longer in some strange hotel, but in his new home.

Yawning he ran a hand over his face, blearily looking around the room. It was a beautiful room – it really was. Bigger than he really needed, though.

In his own time, his family had not been immune to the Depression. And while Howard had worked hard to restore the family fortune, Tony had never forgotten the hard lessons that poverty taught.

Still, the room was tastefully decorated, just waiting for his own personal touch.

"It's not so bad," he told himself, slowly pushing himself to his feet. As he glanced from the small nest he'd made on the floor to the still pristine bed, a bitter smile twisted his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in a bed.

Sighing he stretched his nude form, checking the clock – 0500. His serum-enhanced body usually didn't require much sleep. When he was healing, though, he was down for the count.

Shaking out long limbs, he headed first for the bathroom, automatically going through his morning ablutions. As he splashed water on his face, Tony paused catching sight of his reflection in the mirror, dark eyes unable to help but run over his nude figure.

They had called him the peak of human perfection, and he supposed that to an extent he was. Once upon a time he could have only dreamed of the body he had now, with long lines of muscle, sculpted and perfect. He had a handsome face, strong chin, straight nose, and dark eyes he'd once been told were easy to get lost in.

Yes, he'd been called perfect – and maybe once that had been true. Now, though, time and wear had taken their toll on even the super soldier. The serum healed cuts, bruises, and breaks like they had never been. But the deeper wounds left an indelible mark on his body. Sure, they healed – he always healed – but the scars remained.

Strong fingers carefully traced a silvery line up his side, dully remembering the pain of the metal shard imbedding deeply in his flesh. Moving upwards, he skipped over several puckered circular scars, bullet wounds from when he'd been shot and left for dead in the Belgium woods. Breath hitching at the memory, Tony turned away.

"It'll do you no good, Stark," he reminded himself, closing his eyes in pain.

Shaking himself off, Tony walked back into his new room and headed for his single piece of luggage. Rooting through the dirty cloths in his duffle, he made a mental note to do laundry later. He did manage to find a relatively clean grey t-shirt, though, followed by a pair of black athletic shorts. Once his rather worn sneakers were pulled on over the least gross pair of socks, he was off.

Confidently he navigated the hallways, taking the private elevator down to street level. Steve had shown him the Avengers private entrance during his tour of the Tower, and Tony was thankful he wouldn't have to deal with that receptionist again.

Breathing deeply, Tony stepped into the relatively quiet, crisp, New York morning. He took a moment to shake out his long legs before he turned and took off at a brisk pace. Dark eyes never still, he watched the city that never slept move from loud night into the bustle of the day.

He was crossing the street, headed towards Central Park, when a cry for help made him pause.

"Please stop!"

Frowning, he picked up his pace and rounded the corner, spotting a woman yelling as she hurried after a man clutching a purse that clearly didn't belong to him.

Tony simply moved into the path of the man; the purse-snatcher was so busy watching the woman that he never saw the large man in front of him. Holding out one powerful arm, Cap watched in amusement as the man ran into it full tilt.

Dazed, the would be thief looked up at him from the pavement as Tony glowered, picked up the purse, and stepped over the groaning man. He returned the bag to the woman with a polite nod.

"Oh, thank you so much," she breathed, looking flushed and agitated, but grateful.

"No problem, ma'am," he replied mildly. "Have a good day now." With a respectful head tilt, he turned away. Headed off on his run, Tony never noticed the bystander tapping madly away on his cell phone.

-#-#-#-

Steve woke with a start, immediately groaning when every bone in his body protested.

"Owww," he mumbled, stretching with a pained moan. Sleeping at his worktable was never a good idea. Managing to stagger upright, he mulishly rubbed his lower back and yawned as he panned his workshop – it was just as he'd left it last night.

He fumbled for his empty coffee cup and frowned as he turned to look at the bots across the room. "Butterfingers, get this tidied up," he ordered. Steve had turned to head toward the kitchen when he paused. "And if you break anything, I swear to God I will turn you into a wine rack," he threatened, listening as the bot whirled despondently before rolling to follow his orders.

Steve trudged up the stairs and sauntered into the communal kitchen, his mouth watering at the smell of coffee permeating the air. Barely registering the others, he managed to grunt something towards Bruce and Clint, who were already eating at the table.

"I hear Cap showed up yesterday," Clint said, working his way through an omelet Steve had no doubt that he'd conned Bruce into making for him.

"Hmmm," Steve said with a yawn, pouring a large mug of the elixir of life.

"Tony turned up?" Bruce asked, surprised, looking at Clint for confirmation.

"Yeah, had a problem with reception. Apparently Mr. Rogers rode in and saved the day. Went and threw his weight around."

Caffeine once more running through his system, Steve was able to function normally and turned to face the others, a self-satisfied smirk playing about his lips. "Shame on her for being mean to Captain America. There has to be some sort of law against that."

They all chuckled at the thought.

"What's so funny?" a new voice inquired.

The three men turned in time to see the rather awe-inspiring sight that was Tony Stark post work out.

It took everything Steve had not to stare. Normally sweaty men didn't really do anything for him, but that grey shirt was obscenely tight, and those muscles… Dear god, the man perfect.

While Steve was trying to pick up his jaw, Bruce smiled warmly, "Tony, welcome back."

Grinning the soldier moved to the fridge, "Thanks, Bruce. How are you?"

"Not bad," the scientist replied politely.

"How was traveling 'Merica, Cap?" Clint piped up curiously.

"Good, I guess – I saw lots," Tony shrugged as he opened the fridge and fished out a bottle of water.

Steve, who had finally managed to find his tongue, tried to look charmingly aloof. "How was the room, Cap?" he managed to ask nonchalantly.

Draining the bottle, Tony shrugged. "Nice, it's very nice," he answered with a smile.

Steve nodded, unsure what to say.

Tony tossed the bottle into the recycling. "Is there a laundry room?" he asked, having learned on the road that's what people called it now.

Steve waved a hand airily. "We have people to do that for you," he said grandly.

Tony shrugged, "It's ok, I don't mind doing it myself."

The billionaire gave him a 'suit yourself' sort of look before turning to the door. "Later, kids," he called as he headed back towards his lab. Tony watched him go, a frown furrowing his brow.

"He's always like that," Clint commented, still munching away.

"Like what?" Bruce asked curiously. Interested, Tony too turned to the archer.

"Cold, distant, aloof…" he gestured with his fork.

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "He's just…" he trailed off with a shrug.

Clint glanced at the scientist, "Brotherhood of science?"

The sometimes rage monster gave him a half hearted glare before turning back to Tony, "Come on, Tony. I'll show you the way to the laundry room."

-#-#-#-

"Damn!" Steve cursed as he burned himself yet again on the soldering iron. DUM-E whirred worriedly, holding a rag out to him. "Thanks," the genius mumbled as he checked the damage.

"Sir, you seem distracted," JARVIS commented placidly.

Steve glared at the ceiling, but the AI was eerily silent. The billionaire was loath to admit it, but the damn computer was right. He was distracted, and the distraction's name was Captain America. The man hadn't even been back twenty-four hours and he was already turning things upside down.

Sighing, Steve wrapped a band-aid around the injured digit, "Why can't I get you off my mind?"

"Sir, Miss Carter is upstairs and wishes to speak with you," JARVIS calmly informed him.

Frowning, Steve was about make up some excuse when the familiar voice snapped out orders over the intercom, "Steven, get up here. I have Amanda with me."

Steve wracked his brain, "The PR liaison?"

"Yes, it seems there is a bit of a situation."

-#-#-#-

Tony carefully measured out the liquid detergent, waiting for the washer to start before pouring it in. Pleased with himself and feeling accomplished, he glanced around the big clean room, full of shiny metal machines.

The sight brought him back to the first time he'd attempted to do laundry in this new era. He'd been in a dingy little motel in Colorado and about to punch the machine in frustration when a soft voice stayed his hand.

"_Now a nice young man like you wouldn't be thinking of hitting that machine, would you?"_

_Startled, he turned to look at the small older woman. Her white hair was curled smartly and laugh lines crinkled the corners of her pale blue eyes as she offered him a knowing smile. _

_Tony felt a flush rising as he quickly shook his head, "No, ma'am."_

_Chuckling, she regarded him shrewdly, "It's pretty easy to figure out. Here, I'll show you." _

_Thanking her, Tony listened and watched intently as she showed him, memorizing the process._

"_There now, you'll be ok," she said as she patted him gently on the arm. _

_Tony smiled warmly, "Thank you, ma'am." _

_As the older woman returned to her own laundry, Tony moved to help her fold the clothes. Creasing the clothing with military precision, he listened with a half smile as she spoke openly and happily of her family, past and present. _

"_It's so nice to see a young man with such good manners in this day and age," she said wistfully after he had carried the basket to her car. _

_Tony bit his lip; truthfully, he was probably older than her, counting his time frozen. _

"_Thank you for your help, ma'am. It was a pleasure to meet you," he said, politely holding the car door for her. Settling in, she turned on the vehicle as Tony gently shut the door. Stepping back, he watched curiously as she rolled the window down to look at him solemnly. _

"_Thank you," she said with a sad twist to her lips. "You remind me so much of my brother. I lost him in 1944."_

_Tony felt the pull in his heart, "I know that feeling, ma'am." With a final wave she was gone, and Tony returned to his laundry. _

Shaking his head, the man from the past felt a dull throb of homesickness beat in his chest. He sighed heavily and checked to make sure the machine was working properly before he grabbed his sketchbook – might as well do a little drawing while he waited.

-#-#-#-

"Whatever it was, Peg, I didn't do it," Steve said as he entered the common area. The others were already gathered around to hear the news.

"Most assuredly you did not, Steven," Peggy commented, dryly gesturing towards the TV.

Frowning, the billionaire turned his attention to the newsman on screen as Natasha turned up the volume.

"Now, our latest trending story from New York. The following video was shot by an anonymous source, appearing on YouTube within the last couple of hours. The footage has already surpassed half a million hits."

Then the picture changed to a jumpy video, clearly taken with a phone. It showed a tall man in running gear clothesline another man running away with a lady's purse. The camera operator was yelling encouragement as he swore in amazement.

Video over, the picture switched back to the news anchor. "Who is this unknown street hero? And is he here to stay?" he questioned rhetorically before the program went to commercials.

Steve barely masked his amazement as he turned back to the others. "Was that…" he trailed off, disbelief finally showing.

Tasha nodded, amused. "Captain America? Yeah, it was."

Amanda, who was madly tapping away on her tablet snorted, "And I may kiss the man on the mouth."

At that statement, Steve felt an odd pang he chose to ignore. "Why?" he asked.

Peggy arched a perfect eyebrow, "Are you kidding, Steven?"

He was about to retort when the elevator dinged open and the clever quip died on his lips. Fury, Hill, and another woman in a smart little business suit stepped into the room.

Steve groaned aloud. "Who the hell let them in?" he growled, all but glowering as the three approached.

"Where is he?" Fury asked with his usual deadpan expression, ignoring Steve entirely.

"Who?" the genius replied coldly, crossing his arms over the arc reactor, dirty wife beater pulling taut.

"Damn it, Rogers. Where is the Captain?" Fury growled.

Steve stepped forward and faced the man, standing toe to toe. "What business is it of yours, Director?" he asked, cool and collected. Neither man showed signs of giving an inch.

Clint, who was perched on the arm of the couch, felt Bruce lean into his back slightly, following the proceedings with interest. Tasha remained as impassive as ever, keen eyes watching with some amusement.

"Steven," Peggy tried, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

Neither man moved.

Hill narrowed her eyes as her hand drifted to her hip. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Bruce pressed a little closer to Clint, steadying his breath, pushing away the sudden, uncomfortable roll of the other guy.

Something was going to have to give.

Then the doors of the elevator dinged open again and an oblivious Tony Stark stepped off. Pencil dangling from his mouth and glasses perched on his nose, he walked in, flipping through his sketchbook.

Muttering to himself, the man was almost halfway across the room before he registered his audience. When he looked up he blinked over the top of his glasses and the pencil hanging from his lips.

"Ummm… hello?" he said hesitantly, suddenly very much aware of the tense atmosphere – especially the two combatants in the center of the room.

"Cap," Fury said cordially, turning away from Rogers to face the newcomer fully.

Very deliberately Tony pulled the pencil out of his mouth and shut his book. "Director, what's going on?" he asked, looking towards Steve. The blond man's features were completely composed, but his blue eyes were spitting fire. Tony couldn't help but want to draw him.

"Captain Stark," Peggy said, smiling with red lips as she explained. "You seem to have caused some commotion this morning."

Tony rubbed his neck, brow furrowing as he tried to remember what he'd done. "Don't recall doing anything, Miss Carter," he replied politely.

"Peggy, please," she said with a smile.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony, did you stop a mugger this morning?" he asked calmly.

Dark brown eyes blinked in surprise behind his glasses. "Oh yes, I did," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Excellent," a new voice piped up as an unfamiliar woman stepped forward. "Captain Stark, I'm Amanda Johnson, public relations officer for Rogers-Stark Industries-"

"Whoa – slow down there, princess," the woman with Director Fury interjected. "I'm Sarah Thompson, SHIELD public relations."

Tony blinked, utterly confused, as his eyes darted between the two.

"Look, Captain America falls under SHIELD jurisdiction," the one named Sarah rounded on the other woman.

"Tony Stark is the brother of the Howard Stark. He bears the name of the company," Amanda hissed back.

Tony, still at a loss, was reminded of two cats spitting and circling one another. He had to bite back his laughter at the vivid picture.

"What the hell is going on here?" Steve said finally, rubbing his temples. He did not suffer fools lightly and this was quickly growing tiresome.

Fury stepped forward and held up a hand to stall the rather irate looking Sarah. "Look Tony, your little escapade this morning is already spreading like wildfire. It's all over social media and the news. People are talking, and for the first time in the last six months, it's actually something positive about the Avengers."

Tony blinked, "Oh. Sorry?" he offered, still unsure if he was in trouble or not.

Nick Fury blinked, expression finally softening, "No, Tony. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Amanda took that moment to interject, "It's good, Captain Stark. The Avengers and SRI need some good press." She shot a look at Steve Rogers, who frowned.

Tony felt his brow furrow as he tried to follow all this.

"Look Captain, SHIELD wants you to be the face of the Avengers," Sarah interjected.

"No, he needs to be the new face of SRI," Amanda returned with a glare.

Steve interjected dryly, "I'm right here."

Tony cleared his throat. "I don't really think I'm -" he began only to be cut off by Sarah.

"As the face of the Avengers you could do some real good."

At her words something connected in Tony's mind, and he had to put his foot down. "No, no way. I'm not selling bonds again," he said firmly, shaking his head for emphasis. A loud laugh from the couch reminded everyone the rest of the Avengers were still in the room.

Clint, still grinning widely, chuckled, "Sorry, sorry, please continue to fight over Captain America."

Tony found his own grin at the wry comment; this was rather ridiculous.

"There is no bond selling. We'd just want you to do some press conferences, talk to some select people…" Sarah coaxed with a winning smile. Amanda looked ready to spit nails.

Tony sighed, "I don't really think I'm qualified to speak for the Avengers. I think Steve is the better choice."

Fury snorted, "The less we have of him, the better."

Steve glared daggers at the Director.

"You're the solid choice, Captain," Sarah insisted.

"Romanoff and Barton are limited by the operations they run. Banner is…" Fury trailed off, looking mildly uncomfortable.

"A giant green rage monster?" Tony interjected blandly. "It's ok, he knows." He tossed Bruce a wink, and the scientist responded with a small smile.

"Thor isn't even from this planet," Fury continued on, undeterred.

"I think that's what you call discrimination now, isn't it?" Tony asked, earning himself a chuckle from Steve. The sound brought welcome warmth to his chest.

Fury made a point to ignore the annoying genius as he continued to look steadily at Captain America, wondering if he could indeed win this battle of wills.

"You could just share him," the voice of reason spoke from the plush armchair. Despite her input, Natasha looked utterly unconcerned with the proceedings.

There was a beat of silence before Amanda spoke, "That could work." Slowly she turned to look at her SHIELD counterpart, Sarah, who returned her assessing look.

"Do I get a say in this at all?" Tony asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. The two women shushed him as they conversed rapidly, fingers flying on their respective tablets.

Tony Stark had a terrible sort of sinking in his stomach. It was never a good thing when women plotted – especially when involved him. Pep had- He cut the thought off before it could take root, trying to breathe through the pang of sorrow.

Heaving a sigh, he saw Steve shoot Fury one last dark look before the billionaire crossed the room to stand beside Tony.

Tony couldn't help but notice the blond came to about his shoulder, handsome features smooth and unreadable. Steve Rogers had a hell of a poker face; Tony was a little in awe of it. Generally he wore his emotions right out there, and it got him into trouble more often than not.

"Say the word, Cap, and I'll kick them all out," the billionaire muttered.

Tony was taken aback for a moment, then felt a small smile tug at his lips. Touched by his concern, the man from the past leaned slightly into the other. "I'll let you in on a little secret," he whispered conspiratorially. "They can't make Captain America do anything he doesn't want to do."

Steve was unable to help the huff of laughter this time. Giving the Captain a genuine smile, he shook his head admiringly.

Across the room, keen brown eyes watched the exchange with interest. Peggy felt a gentle smile tug at her lips as an idea took hold in her mind – perhaps her employer had met his match in this man from the past. She sincerely hoped so.


	6. Part VI

Author's Note: Yeah next chapter! Hope I can get more going, I love Tony in this, and he only gets sweeter. Thanks for all the support and readers who enjoy my work. I do this for your guys, you make it all worth while. So enjoy the next part!

Many thanks to ravingbeauty whom is making me look oh so good with this.

That Has Such People

Part VI – **I say there is no darkness but ignorance. **

"Captain Stark," Sarah of SHIELD greeted him briskly.

"It's Tony, Sarah," he interjected for what had to be the millionth time since he'd met her.

She ignored him, not even breaking stride. "Today's press conference is meant to inspire some confidence with the people. They need to know the Avengers are on the side of the people, that we are here to help."

Tony nodded, looking down at his red boots; he could appreciate what they were trying to do here today, but was the costume really necessary? They had promised he wasn't going to have to peddle bonds, but it felt a lot like he was doing just that.

"All you have to do is read the cards, smile, and look impressive."

Tony rolled his eyes, "That's all I have to do, is it?"

Sarah was busy fiddling with her phone again and missed his sarcasm. "That's all, Captain Stark."

Sighing, he turned his eyes toward the window and watched the city roll by. He'd been back in town a grand total of two days, and since stopping the purse-snatcher he hadn't had a moment's rest. Between the PR ladies and Fury, he was almost beginning to regret coming back to New York. Almost.

Truth be told, it was nice to see everyone again. Especially Steve, though he hadn't really had an opportunity to talk to the man. According to Bruce and Clint, Steve spent the majority of his time in the lab anyway. Tony wasn't deterred, though; he was nothing if not persistent.

"Here we are," Sarah murmured, drawing him out of his reverie. She looked at him, eyebrow raised, "Ready?"

Tony sort of wished he had his shield, but Sarah had confiscated it, said it sent the wrong impression. Tony would be the first to admit he'd be sorely tempted to throw it at someone's head.

"As I'll ever be," he muttered, stepping out of the car and into the mass of waiting reporters.

-#-#-#-

"Did I miss it?" Steve asked, hurrying into the room zipping his hoodie as he went.

Bruce, already seated on the couch, waved a hand at him, "Nope. Just getting him up to the stage now."

Steve sat with blue eyes glued to the screen; he wouldn't miss this for the world.

Almost every news channel going was featuring the much-anticipated press conference of the Avengers. Not that the press conference in itself was news – it was the man delivering the lines that would make headlines. Captain America had dropped off the radar after the invasion; people were curious. Captain Tony Stark was a national treasure, a war hero, and a symbol… He represented an ideal America. He represented an America people wanted to believe in again.

The camera focused on a podium overflowing with microphones, a strategically placed flag pinned to the front. All eyes watched as Captain America walked onto stage looking vaguely uneasy.

Steve felt a frown pull at his features, wondering yet again why the hell had Fury thought this was a good idea.

"Thank you all for coming," the SHIELD PR lady said as the man of the hour stepped forward. "Captain America will be making a statement, then take your questions."

Silence settled on the room as all attention turned to the Captain, his imposing figure looking out of place amongst all the microphones and cue cards.

In the living room of the Tower all was silent as they too waited to see what would happen. The moment stretched out uncomfortably.

"Come on, Tony," Steve mumbled, worried. Maybe he was panicking. There were a lot of people; maybe he had stage fright…

"I'm not going to read these," the Captain finally said and set aside the cards. Steve blinked, surprised at the announcement. Not as surprised as Sarah, though, who was just visible behind Tony's shoulder. The woman looked ready to tackle him to the ground.

The Captain looked over the crowd, a half smile twisting his lips as his dark eyes scanned the people before him. "Look, I'm not really qualified to speak for the Avengers. Hell, I'm not even qualified to speak as a person from this century," he grinned roguishly as a smattering of laughter rippled through the crowd.

"They want me to explain what happened; but I was there and I don't even know what happened. What I do know, though, is that when the odds were against us, a group of improbable people accomplished the impossible."

There was a solemn silence as the dark haired man looked grimly resolute. "A lot of people are blaming us for what happened. That's ok; I think it's only right that we do shoulder some of that blame. But when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter if people love us or hate us; the Avengers are not going anywhere."

Steve felt his jaw drop. And if he was shocked, then the reporters…

Suddenly the room erupted.

"Captain, Captain! Are you saying the Avengers are here to stay?" one called.

Tony snorted, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Captain, do you think the Avengers present a danger to the city?"

"In what respect?" Tony asked calmly.

The reporter looked suddenly uneasy. "Certain members of the Avengers have, up until recently, been…" the reporter trailed off and Steve could only imagine his expression. Worried blue eyes glanced to Bruce.

"Would this Avenger be green by any chance?" Tony asked dryly. "The Hulk stood with us, and I would gladly have him at my back any day. Any of the Avengers, for that matter."

Steve felt warmth rise in his chest, and the look on Bruce's face was one of awe.

"Captain, what would you say is the hardest part of adapting to this new time?"

Tony chuckled, smiling winningly, "The technology."

The crowd laughed again as the Cap easily fielded and fended off the questions posed to him. Sometimes rather dryly, but most of his answers rang true and genuine.

"Thank you very much for coming out today. That is all," the SHIELD liaison finally said, wrapping up the conference.

Steve would be lying if he didn't admit that he was a little in awe of the man. Tony effortlessly held them in the palm of his hand. The greatest critique the media had of Steve was he came off cold, standoffish, and closed. Tony was just the opposite, charismatic and bigger than life – the media loved him. The reporters actually applauded as Captain America gave them a jaunty little salute and departed.

"Wow, he was good. Better than I expected," Clint commented from his position sprawled on the floor.

Steve could tell he was trying not to look too impressed, but it was hard not to. Bruce nodded his agreement, and Steve found himself smiling a little.

"Well done, Spangles…"

-#-#-#-

Tony sighed and slumped tiredly against the mirrored elevator wall, his day finally over. Neither Fury nor Sarah the drill sergeant had been happy with his performance today. He'd been thoroughly raked over the coals for not sticking to the cue cards, even though he was currently "trending" or something like that. Sarah said it didn't matter that the press loved him – he was supposed to stick to the written lines.

Unsurprisingly, they had told him the exact same thing when he'd sold bonds almost seventy years ago. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Tony grinned a little to himself as the elevator dinged and he stepped off at the common floor. Fury was slowly learning that Captain America had an insubordinate streak. If they were going to make him do this, it was damn well going to be on his terms. And the last thing he was ever going to do was throw his people under the bus.

Yawning, the super solider stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed towards the kitchen; he was starving. He'd eaten at SHIELD, but with his metabolism he was pretty much always hungry. During the war it had been a constant annoyance; sometimes there was just no food. He'd always made sure the men got first shot at any rations they managed to scrounge up. He could survive better than they, after all.

Times, however, had very much changed. Now there was food aplenty, and Tony had made it his personal mission to try as many different types as he could.

Halfway to the kitchen, he noticed the TV playing quietly in the common room. He knew Thor was currently away; apparently he had a lady friend in New Mexico. And Natasha had left early this morning on a mission… Maybe it was Steve.

Curiosity piqued, he quietly glanced over the couch, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline at the sight before him. It wasn't Steve. It was Clint… and Bruce, sleeping with his head pillowed on the archer's thigh. Both looked very comfortable in the intimate position.

Silently Tony stepped away. As he continued on his mission for food, his brow furrowed in thought, mind suddenly unsettled. Were Bruce and Clint romantically involved?

The idea of two men being together didn't bother him in the least. Howard had always said that he was a very forward thinker. Hell, his best friend growing up had been Negro – no, African American was the proper term now.

Reaching the fridge, Tony was momentarily distracted from his thoughts as he eagerly pulled out containers, checking for names. The rule of the house, Steve had explained, was that food labeled with someone else's name was off limits. Satisfied the leftovers were fair game, he grabbed a fork and headed for his room as his mind turned once more to his teammates. This revelation merited some research.

Juggling the food, he carefully tapped the keypad by his door, watching in amazement as it slid open. Howard would love it.

"Lights please, JARVIS," he said aloud, grinning when they came up.

"Welcome home, Captain Stark," the pleasant British voice answered.

"Thanks, JARVIS," he replied as he set his bounty down on the desk, pushing half-finished sketches out of the way. Task completed, he carefully retrieved his tablet from the bedside table. Steve had given him the SRI pad the day he'd arrived, showing him how it worked so quickly that it had made his head spin. Tony had been damn thankful he had a photographic memory.

Setting up the machine on a little stand, he dug into the first container with one hand and carefully tapped the screen with the other. He got as far as opening the little icon that would let him search the Internet. Then he hesitated, completely at a loss as to where to begin.

In his time, a man liking another man was something people did not talk about, didn't even acknowledge. As a matter of fact, it was considered a disease of the mind. Accusing someone of liking other men was an absolute insult, whether it was true or not. On more than one occasion he'd been subject to such insults himself, especially before the serum.

Grinning, Tony recalled the first time he'd been called a queer; he'd gotten between some bullies and a younger boy. He hadn't understood what the word had meant, only that it was meant to infuriate. And the look on Howard's face when he'd asked what it meant to be a queer had been priceless. It was one of the few times he'd ever seen his older brother blush as Howard fumbled through his explanation.

"_Why is it a bad thing?" Tony asked, dark eyes looking up at his brother curiously. _

"_It just is, Tony," Howard explained gently, cleaning the cut on his forehead. _

"_But what does it matter? If you love someone… shouldn't that be enough?" _

_Howard gave him a look of mingled exasperation and pride, eyes warm, "Sometimes I wonder which of us is going to create that better world." _

Now, some seventy odd years in the future, Tony Stark was worrying all over again.

Despite his own thoughts on the subject, he'd learned to abide by the unwritten rules. He'd known men in war who had found solace in their comrades. Some were men with wives and children waiting for them at home, who were simply finding an outlet. He'd also known a man who'd been completely devoted to his partner, and his partner equally steadfast. Tony had even been a little jealous of a connection like that.

Despite the differing circumstances however, there was a common thread throughout – you didn't speak of it.

Don't ask, don't tell.

He needed to know if that unwritten code still stood. And if so, Tony would do his utmost to protect his teammates, both on and off the field. Everyone deserved happiness, and if that wasn't something worth fighting for, then he didn't know what was.

"Do you require assistance, Captain Stark?" JARVIS asked politely. Tony blinked, realizing he'd been staring blankly at the empty screen.

He hesitated a moment before replying. "JARVIS, may I count on your discretion?"

"Always, sir."

Nodding, Tony opened another container. He sniffed the contents curiously before shrugging and digging in anyway; he was sure he'd eaten worse during the war. "Ok, JARVIS. I would like to know about current social mores regarding homosexuality."

"Of course, sir," the disembodied voice said as various pages began to open on his tablet. Curious, Tony tugged his glasses out of his pocket and slipped them on as he began to read. He really didn't need them anymore – the serum had healed him to perfection – but whenever he'd draw or read, he found himself putting them on. Howard had said it was all in his head. His brother probably wasn't all that far off the mark.

Dark eyes moved rapidly as he sifted through historical landmarks in gay rights, including the fight for equality and changing attitudes. Amazed and fascinated, he finished off his food and automatically reached for his cigarettes. He had one on his lips before remembering.

"Right, right," Tony grumbled as he grabbed the tablet, heading out of his room and upwards to the roof.

Steve had made the building's roof, just like everywhere else in the Tower, an oasis in the city. A large outdoor pool glittered invitingly in the clear night. He had yet to take advantage of that particular amenity, but he would. For now, though, he had readings to finish. Settling on a deck chair, he located an ashtray and lit up, exhaling blue smoke absently he continued to read.

It was both astounding and frustrating to him as he sifted through the information. Society had made leaps and bounds forward, only to be set back by narrow-minded people and political agendas. Still, barriers were falling one by one, and Tony Stark felt a certain sort of pride that he was alive to see this.

Same sex couples could marry, could adopt, could live openly and with pride. They could serve in the military, play professional sports, save lives. "Can even be superheroes," he mused.

Having seen enough, Tony shut down the tablet, finding a smile as he glanced skyward. The city lights obscured the stars yet were somehow beautiful in their own right. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he exhaled and watched the smoke rise, "It's a brave new world, Stark."

-#-#-#-

"He's on the roof, sir," JARVIS announced softly.

Steve continued to tinker with his suit, pretending he didn't care. "Oh? What's he doing?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Smoking, sir."

Steve gave up the pretense of working and nervously wiped greasy hands on his once clean shirt. "Would it be weird if I just showed up to talk to him?" he asked the AI.

"I don't think so, sir. After all, you own the building."

If any AI could be sarcastic, Steve was sure it would be his.

"Fine, you win," he mumbled. Before he could think it over, Steve Rogers was up and moving. He wasn't really sure why he wanted to see the solider –

No, that was a lie.

Steve knew exactly why he wanted to see the man. He'd been obsessed with the soldier since that day on the jet when he'd looked at Steve with those big brown eyes, filled with wonder and curiosity. The expression in those eyes had left Steve feeling something warm and indefinable, a feeling that hadn't faded in over six months.

Now he hurried up the stairs and paused just outside the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping onto the roof.

It was a beautifully clear night out, the sounds of the city distant and obscure. Steve was already halfway across the roof before he realized that he really had no earthly reason to be up here. Freezing, he wracked his brain for some sort of plausible excuse when an amused voice called out to him.

"Hi, Steve."

Flinching, the billionaire straightened his spine as his usual smooth expression fell into place. "Oh hi, Cap. Didn't know you were up here." Steve winced at his awkwardness, but still found his feet carrying him over to the taller man.

Chuckling, Tony stubbed out the end of his cigarette and grinned as the blond inventor settled across from him.

Unable to help himself, Steve found his eyes drifting over the handsome man. His dark hair was swept back from his face, styled perfectly. The sleeves of the crisp white shirt were rolled casually to his elbows, while his twill trousers were held up by dark suspenders. The man looked like he'd just stepped out of the 1940's but – by God – he was making it work, a hipster's wet dream.

"What are you doing up here so late?" Tony asked, a small smile playing about his lips.

"Could ask the same of you," Steve returned.

"Fair enough," the other chuckled. "Just got home actually."

Steve wrinkled his nose in sympathy. "How mad was Fury?"

Tony laughed outright. "He wasn't pleased."

"I don't think I've ever seen him happy," Steve snorted. "Well, he came close when we saved the world but other than that – Hey!" the billionaire yelped as a large hand suddenly pressed against the light in his chest.

Ignoring its warmth, Steve pushed the hand away and grumbled, "What's with you? Boundary issues much?" He glared at the other man, trying not to notice how thick lashes framed his dark eyes.

"Sorry," Tony said, giving him a sheepish look. That look, Steve absently noted, should really not be so hot on a man that size. "Just curious."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Not sure how things were done in your time, but now people just don't go around grabbing people's chests."

"They didn't… I mean, I don't…" Trailing off, Tony gave him a helplessly lopsided grin, "It's just really…"

"Cool? Awesome? Amazing?" Steve supplied, trying to look suave.

"Beautiful," Tony blurted.

Steve blinked, unsure what to say to that. His arc reactor was both his most hated and most prized possession. It had been called a marvel of human engineering, a freak accident, even an abomination… but beautiful?

"You know what it does, don't you?" Steve asked softly, looking up into the dark brown fathomless depths. A man could get lost in those eyes far too easily. He felt his own eyes skimming away to look out at the city. "You read my file?"

Tony rubbed suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. What the hell was he doing? "Yeah, cover to cover. It keeps shrapnel from entering your heart."

Steve gave him an inscrutable look, measuring him for long moments. "You're a strange man, Tony Stark," he finally said before shaking his head, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

Tony felt that damn heat in his neck again. Nervously he fumbled out another cigarette. Flicking his lighter open, he lit the tip before exhaling, seeing Steve wrinkle his nose.

"Think I'll turn in for the night, Cap," Steve said as he stood, moving away from the other man.

Tony hesitated, cigarette dangling from his lips, torn between asking him to stay and saying goodnight before he put his goddamn big foot back in his big mouth.

Steve paused and turned to look back at Tony, who was bathed faintly in the glow of the city, smoke wreathing his head. "You did good today… The things you said…" the genius trailed off and cleared his throat as he turned away self-consciously.

"Night, Tony," he called with a wave.

Alone once more, the soldier felt his lips turn up in a grin; Steve had called him Tony.


	7. Part VII

Author's Note: Tony is a good bro! I love the bromance fluff, and also gratuitous Clint pining so cute! Cap Tony is awesome. Hope you enjoy this I promise there will be smut eventually. For now though enjoy all the feels. Thank you ravingbeauty we're looking good.

That Has Such People

Part VII – **Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart**

It was a very conflicted Tony Stark that shuffled into the kitchen next morning.

He'd spent much of his night and most of the morning going over the prior night's conversation with Steve, rehashing everything over and over, wondering and worrying. He couldn't really figure out why he was so anxious – he just was.

Worrying his lower lip, the soldier was already pulling eggs and bacon out of the fridge when he registered the presence of a sleep-tousled archer at the kitchen table. Pushing aside his own worries for the moment, he grinned at his teammate. "Morning."

Clint yawned and gazed at him sleepily. "Morn'n, Cap," he returned.

Recalling his revelation the previous night, Tony tossed the blond a wink. "Tired out?" he teased.

The other frowned, brows knitting in confusion as Tony gave him a knowing grin. The man from the past set the pan of bacon on the stove; bacon was definitely one of his favorite things.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Clint said, expression still bewildered.

Turning from his cooking, Tony held his spatula over his heart, "Say no more – no kiss and tell, I get it." Returning to his cooking, he missed the way the agent stiffened behind him.

"I'm happy for you, though. It's good to find someone you share a connection with," Tony continued, sounding, he hoped, knowledgeable – although he really didn't know all that much about it. His relationship experience was almost nonexistent. Mostly he'd lived vicariously through Howard and Rhodes, and later his men. He was still too embarrassed to admit that the few times he'd been on dates, the women had been paid by his brother. Howard had meant well, but Tony wasn't comfortable paying for a woman's affection.

At almost thirty now, he was very sadly still a virgin. He'd go to his damn grave before he'd admit to it, though.

Humming now, Tony was getting ready to flip the bacon when suddenly hands gripped his shoulders, spinning him around to face a worried Clint Barton.

"Cap, what are you talking about?" Clint asked very slowly, very cautiously.

Tony hesitated, concern furrowing his brow; maybe he wasn't supposed to know about the relationship. As understanding dawned he gave the smaller man a knowing look.

"I won't tell anyone. Your secret's safe with me," he promised.

"What are you not going to tell?" Clint asked, suddenly looking pale.

Tony cocked his head, "That you and Bruce are together."

The look of horror on the assassin's face made him feel awful; apparently he'd misunderstood the situation terribly.

Catching a whiff of something burning, Tony quickly turned off the burner before returning to the conversation. "I'm sorry, I just assumed. I saw you on the couch last night…" he said, trailing off as Clint groaned.

"No, Cap. We're not in a relationship," he muttered, leaning heavily against the counter as he buried his face his hands. The man from the past winced.

Running a hand through dark hair he sighed. "Sorry," he muttered again, wondering how he'd so badly misread the situation.

"Not your fault," Clint said with a hollow laugh. "I didn't think I was being so obvious," he muttered forlornly.

Breakfast forgotten for the moment, Tony edged closer to the despondent man. "So you like Bruce?"

"Yeah, I do," he mumbled as he looked at his feet.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "So why not tell him?" he asked logically.

Horrified gray eyes looked up at him. "I couldn't do that," he hissed, scandalized.

"Why not? If you like him…" Tony trailed off as Clint vehemently shook his head.

"Are you crazy? I couldn't do that! What if he doesn't like me back?" he hissed. "I'm not even sure if he's into guys for that matter," he continued. Then the gray, pleading eyes met Tony's. "You won't tell him, will you?"

Tony Stark sighed, unsure how he had managed to get himself into this predicament. Honestly, all he'd wanted was to fit in with his team. Talking about relationships, women, men… that's how he'd bonded with his soldiers. At least that's how it'd been done in his day.

Poor Clint; he really was asking the wrong guy. Tony was completely out of his element here. He talked a big game, but when it came down to it, he'd rather storm a Hydra base than try and tell someone he loved them.

Realizing the other man was still waiting for an answer, Tony found himself reluctantly agreeing, "Of course, your secret safe's with me." Patting him on the shoulder, Tony offered a comforting smile, "Did you um, want some breakfast?"

Relieved, Clint gave him a tentative smile, "Sure."

Tony nodded and returned to his bacon, while Clint returned to his seat at the kitchen table. The dark haired man poked at his pan to see if it was salvageable. Sniffing a crispy piece, he shrugged and munched on the remains of his first attempt as he put some fresh pieces in the pan. Once more the smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen. Tony was absently humming and munching again when Clint spoke again.

"You umm, you don't seem all that offended by…." he trailed off, looking suddenly embarrassed.

Tony glanced at the archer out of the corner of his eye; he understood what the man was driving at. "What am I supposed to be offended by?" he asked innocently, wondering just how far Clint would go.

"Well, I mean you're from the 1940s, and gays…" he trailed off again.

"You didn't invent homosexuality, you know. It's been around a long while," Tony replied dryly. Bacon done, he slid the pieces onto a paper towel covered plate before moving to rinse out the pan.

"Well, I know that, I just mean..."

Clint looked so flustered – and Tony had to admit he was enjoying the man's discomfort. Sometimes failing to meet expectations was vastly amusing.

"You expected ignorance and hate?" he asked tonelessly, setting his freshly washed skillet back to the stove.

"Yes!" Clint blurted before rethinking what he'd said. "No, I mean…" He sighed and trailed off.

At the helpless look on Clint's face, Tony took pity on him.

"You're not wrong," Tony said as he buttered the pan. "It was very much frowned upon in my time. It didn't stop it from happening though. During the war some men found solace in each other."

Then he turned, offering Clint a small smile, "Who am I to judge? Love is love."

Gray eyes blinked at him in surprise; there was perhaps even a little awe in Clint's expression. Chuckling at the stunned look, Tony turned back to his eggs and let the man mull over his words.

"That's very forward thinking of you, Cap," he said, still looking a little shaken.

Embarrassed by the praise Tony shrugged. "Howard always said I was ahead of my time. My best friend growing up was Negro – sorry, African American," he looked back as he gestured with his spatula. Clint could only nod.

Hawkeye watched as the man went back to flipping his eggs. The archer felt more than a little shell-shocked by the whole morning. Captain America had wished him well on his homosexual relationship, something that he was apparently completely okay with. As it turned out the Cap was a rather good confidant.

The man was full of surprises.

"… He'd be amazed to see how far civil rights had come now," Tony was still talking as he buttered toast. "Sometimes when we went out, certain places…" he trailed off, face suddenly thunderous and more than a little heartsick.

"There used to be 'whites only' places," he spat. Looking down sadly, he barely noticed the now bent knife he held in his hand.

Clint felt his heart break a little for the man. "I guess the future isn't all bad then?" he ventured.

Plates ready, Tony joined him at the table and slid a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon over to him. Tony held up his mug of coffee, "To the future."

Chuckling, Clint clinked back, "Cheers, Cap."

-#-#-#-

"Cap, what are you doing right now?" Clint called as he strode excitedly into the room. The dark haired man was currently settled in one of the overly large armchairs, sketchbook in his lap, glasses on his nose.

"Building a rocket," he answered sarcastically. The comment earned him a chuckle from Bruce, who was settled on the couch, work spread across the coffee table.

"Ha ha," Clint returned sarcastically. "Come on, got somewhere I wanna take you."

Tony perked up at that. "Oh yeah? Where to?"

"Not telling," Clint said with a devilish gleam in his gray eyes. "You'll have to come."

Grinning, Tony stood tossing aside his sketchbook. "What about you, Bruce? Up for a little adventure?" he asked, ignoring the suddenly panicked look Clint was giving him.

"Sorry, I'll have to pass," Bruce declined. "I need to get through all this before Steve leaves tomorrow."

Tony hid his disappointment, "Ok, see you later."

Bruce gave the pair a wave, "Have fun, kids." Seconds later the scientist heard the elevator ding and he was alone. Sipping his tea, the curly haired man made it through two more pages before the elevator sounded again and a new figure stepped off.

Steve Rogers strode in, looking larger than life; Bruce felt oddly small in his presence. Without breaking stride he veered into the kitchen, eyes on his phone as he tapped away.

"Hey, Bruce," he called.

The scientist chuckled as he called back, "Hey, Steve."

The brilliant man appeared seconds later, a cup of coffee in hand and his suit jacket missing. "How goes the battle?" the genius asked as he glanced over the paperwork.

"It goes," Bruce, sighed and leaned back on the couch.

"Think it'll be ready for tomorrow?" he queried, perching on the arm.

"Or I'll die trying," the scientist sassed back.

"That's the spirit," Steve declared, holding his coffee in salute. Smirking lopsidedly, Bruce tugged his glasses off to clean the lenses. There was a long moment of silence as Steve tapped away on his phone.

"Where are the other two?" the billionaire asked curiously.

Bruce waved dismissively as he slipped his glasses back on, "Went out." He didn't fail to notice the frown on Steve's face.

"Again? They've gone out everyday this week."

Brow furrowing, the doctor shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Never really thought about it."

Steve snorted and looked down at his phone again, trying to be nonchalant, "They seemed to get close awful fast."

"I guess so," Bruce responded as he watched his friend curiously, wondering what he was driving at. "Tony's only been back a week, I'm sure Clint's just showing him around," he explained, suddenly questioning himself. He hadn't thought anything of it until now.

Steve leveled a dispassionate look at him before glancing down to his ringing phone. "Got to take this," he said by way of an excuse and left the room.

Alone with his thoughts now, Bruce worried his lip. Steve was right… the two were getting awfully close. A sudden uncomfortable pang rippled through his chest. He didn't like that idea, didn't like it at all. His other half echoed the sentiment with an uneasy growl.

-#-#-#-

Bacon ice cream.

It was official – everything was better with bacon.

"Told you," Clint said smugly lapping at his own pumpkin cone.

"I have no idea where you keep finding these places," he muttered as he slurped the dripping cream.

"The Internet, man. Google is without a doubt the best invention ever," Clint said, dropping on a bench to continue eating his treat.

"Amen to that," Tony said empathetically, joining him.

Falling into a comfortable silence, the pair enjoyed the unseasonably warm fall day. Tony's mind idly drifted over the last week; since that awkward encounter in the kitchen with Clint, they had both found a friendship.

Surprisingly, they found they got along famously. Sparring, watching movies, and going out to the most obscure places to eat that Clint could find – Tony was loving every moment of it. To have formed even a small bond with his teammate was amazing.

For his part, Clint was pleasantly surprised to have found a kindred sprit in the Cap. He was learning the man from the past wasn't at all like he had expected. He knew Captain America, the cool, brave, badass tactician who he'd follow to battle any day. But now he getting to know Tony Stark and that, he was thinking, was even better.

"Why did you ask Bruce to come?" Clint asked hesitantly.

Tony swallowed down the last of his cone, "So you can talk to him."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Why can't you just let me pine in peace?" he moaned dramatically, finishing up his own cone.

"Because," he answered eloquently. "Why don't you just tell him you like him?" Tony asked as he settled back against the bench to watch the busy New York afternoon.

"The point of an unrequited love is that it's unrequited," Clint said.

"Seems silly," Tony returned.

"So are your suspenders," the blond retorted.

Laughing, Tony shrugged. "Everyone seems so concerned with what I wear," he mused. Turning to his companion, he stood and held out one hand. "Come on, let's go back. I'll show you some of my new stuff."

Clint perked up, "Oh yeah?"

Falling into the flow of the crowd, they headed for home.

"I've got one I think you'll like."

-#-#-#-

Steve Rogers did not sulk. He was worth billons of dollars, he was a genius, and he was a fucking superhero. He did not sulk.

Only apparently, when big, dark haired super soldiers were concerned, he did.

Angrily he slammed his chest plate down on the workbench, sending tools skidding across the floor. Butterfingers angrily whirred at him as it began to clean up.

"Don't sass me," he mumbled at the robot. "Stupid archers," he grumbled as he stared moodily at the cluttered workspace. He didn't understand what the hell had happened. Why was Tony spending all his time with Clint?

Granted, he had been rather busy with a merger that was set to close soon, but that wasn't reason for Tony to spend all his time with the assassin. They seemed to be constantly going out for dinner or watching movies… The hot flare of jealousy that rippled through him made him want to punch something.

Slumping on his stool, Steve sighed heavily. Howard had been his godfather. His father had been Howard's partner, for Christ's sake. Tony should be coming to him, relying on him. He wanted to be the one Tony sought out when he needed someone.

"Just want him to need me," he said softly, staring unseeingly at the far wall.

-#-#-#-

"These are awesome, Tony," Clint said enthusiastically as he stared at the pages.

The archer knew Tony was a phenomenal artist, but he'd sort of thought the Cap only did comics. Not that those weren't cool; his comics were amazing. These, however… really, he had no words. Tony had managed to capture the Avengers perfectly; the emotion pouring off the pages was staggering.

There were so many, too… The team after the battle, sitting ragged and worn around the table and eating shawarma. Iron Man dodging the falling body of one of the Chitauri. Black Widow fighting, Thor mid-swing, and even the Hulk in the middle of smashing an enemy.

His favorite, though, and the one he kept returning to, was of him and Bruce. Candid, it was an almost intimate moment that Clint remembered very well, as he was pretty sure it was the moment he'd fallen in love with the scientist.

Just after the fight, both of them were dirty and disheveled, Bruce holding tight to the tattered remains of his pants. The Doc was exhausted but he was smiling just a bit, his lips quirking, while Clint was full out grinning as he leaned on his bow.

It was touching and beautiful. "For you," Tony said quietly, sliding the thick drawing paper towards the archer.

Shocked, Clint blinked at him. "No, I couldn't," he said even as he touched the drawing reverently .

Snorting, Tony pushed it closer. "Clint, I would be a lucky man if my publishers had looked at my work with even half that reverence."

How could he refuse? Happily Clint accepted the drawing and gave his newfound friend a smile. "You're a good man, Tony."

Embarrassed, Tony shuffled through his papers. "Course I am, I'm Captain America."

Clint reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm, causing Tony to pause. "No, not Captain America – Tony Stark," he said earnestly.

Tony had no idea what to do; flustered, he felt his neck heat and looked away. Clint, sensing the sudden awkward tension, cracked a smile. "A good man, but definitely a weird one."

Tony quirked his own grin, "I was weird in the 1940s, too." Clint blinked before laughing heartily and Tony shared in the mirth until the archer's ringing cell phone interrupted.

Still grinning, Clint answered with a brisk, "Barton."

As the blond moved away, Tony rounded up his pictures, still a little embarrassed, but warmed by the complement from the other. He knew Captain America had become a rallying point, more a symbol than anything, or at least he had been during the war.

Still… to know that he, Tony Stark, was recognized gave him more hope than anything else.

"Urgh," Clint said as he hung up, causing Tony to look over at him with a raised brow.

"Mission," he elaborated. "I have to get going, but… would you do me a favor?" he asked hesitantly.

Drawings gathered in his book once more, Tony looked up, "Sure."

Clint looked down at the picture in his hands, "Would you maybe keep an eye on Bruce for me?"

Tony barely managed to suppress a wide smile. "I think I can mange that," he returned, his expression stoic and solemn.

Clint looked relieved, "Thanks, I guess I'll see you in a week or so."

Tony smiled at the other man, "Good luck, come back safe."

Hawkeye gave him a cocky grin, "I always do."

-#-#-#-

It was quiet.

Far, far too quiet.

He hadn't quite realized just how quiet the Tower could get – especially for a building in the middle of New York, the busiest city in America. Sighing, Tony stubbed out his cigarette and exhaled as the last of the crimson sun faded away and darkness crept across the city.

Closing his book, the super soldier headed back inside. He wasn't so fond of the quiet these days. The seedy motels with paper-thin walls had been just fine with him. It meant there were people close by. The silence reminded him of the ice…

Shivering, he frowned, telling himself it was just in his head. He wasn't in the ice; there were people around. As much as he tried to convince himself of that fact, though, he still couldn't bear to be alone.

Calling up his mental map of the Tower, Tony headed to the elevator. His first stop was Bruce's lab; he had a promise to keep.

As the doors dinged on the lower level, Tony stepped off and glanced around. He could see the doctor bent over his microscope, looking absorbed in his work.

Satisfied the scientist was hale and hearty, he stepped back into the elevator and headed for the ground floor, barely feeling the movement of the machine as it whisked him downwards. Tony had a very specific destination in mind.

Steve had only briefly shown him his workshop during his tour, just gesturing to the metal and glass room before taking him into the Tower proper, and he hadn't been back down since.

Not because he didn't want to, but because he knew it was Steve's sanctuary, just as Howard's workshop had been his. His brother's lab had been a sacred space to him, and while Tony had always been welcome, some days he'd felt like he was intruding.

The elevator reached the bottom and he stepped out, already able to hear the steady beat of music muffled by the wall of glass. He approached the door but hesitated just outside as a sudden uncertainty settled over him.

Maybe he wasn't welcome here… After all, he'd never been invited. Worrying his lower lip, he all but glared at his slippered feet. Maybe he should have just gone to bed…

He was so far in his own mind that he missed the sudden silence within, the door sliding silently open.

"Lurk in doorways often?" an amused voice asked. Jolting, Tony looked up to find intelligent blue eyes regarding him with amusement.

Embarrassed, Tony shifted on his feet. "No," he said softly.

Steve simply raised an eyebrow. "Come on in, Cap."

Turning, Steve disappeared back inside the lab, leaving Tony to hesitate only a moment before slowly following.


	8. Part VIII

Author's Note: Here we are next part! I am trying to get this one done and up before too much longer as I have some ideas for a new one. There is one particular scene in this one, won't say anything thing, but it's awesome. Hope you enjoy the next installment and thanks for all the support!

Many thanks ravingbeauty, your work is awesome.

That Has Such People

Part VIII – **But men are men; the best sometimes forget.**

The place was beyond words.

If Tony had ever bothered to imagine what the future would look like, Steve Rogers' workshop would have been it. It put Howard's to shame.

Tony couldn't turn his head fast enough as he tried to take in everything.

"Coffee?" the blond man called from the far side of the room.

"Please," Tony replied absently, already carefully studying what he recognized as an Iron Man suit – different from the suit he'd seen before, though. Curiosity running riot, he consciously folded his hands behind him, carefully holding his sketchbook at his back. Eagerly he circled the workshop until Steve appeared at his elbow, cup in hand.

Tony carefully set his sketchbook on a small scrap of empty table as he accepted the mug with a smile of thanks. Sipping, he turned back to the room, resuming his inspection.

Steve watched the man curiously, wondering what had brought him down here. Blue eyes roved over his guest, who was wearing dark grey sweats, beige slippers, and a cream long-sleeved shirt pushed to the elbows. He looked far better than any man had a right to.

"So what can I do for you, Cap?" he asked curiously. Dark chocolate eyes met his for an instant before skittering away.

"I just… nothing really," Tony quietly replied as he self-consciously ran a hand through thick, dark locks.

Steve leaned against a worktable and crossed his arms over the arc reactor, wondering why he suddenly felt so nervous. Quietly he regarded the other man as Tony finished his coffee, setting the mug down and clasping his hands behind his back automatically. It was a gesture Steve had noticed before, any time Tony was in a lab or around technology.

"Why do you do that?" the genius asked suddenly, needing to understand.

"Do what?" Tony asked, looking back at him, brow puckered in confusion.

"Put your hands behind your back," Steve said pointedly.

Blinking owlishly for a moment, Tony grinned, "Habit, sorry. Howard always said I had far too much curiosity for one person." Steve watched as that smile took on a melancholy quality that pulled at his heart.

"I was always allowed in his lab, and I found his work so fascinating and intriguing. He is… _was_ a brilliant man and I was always in awe of his work. Sometimes I got into trouble, though. Got myself locked in one of his hover car designs once," he chuckled, eyes misty and far away, and Steve knew he was back in his brother's lab.

"Once, though – and to this day I don't quite remember how it happened – I got my hand caught in one of his new designs. It was torn up pretty bad in one of the rotors." Tony flexed his right hand unconsciously as he continued, "Howard was upset, but I really didn't blame him – it was my own fault. He was worried I'd lose my hand, a bad thing for an artist."

He looked up and offered Steve a small grin, "I healed just fine, but after that Howard was always worried when I was in the lab. So I started putting my hands behind my back where they were safe."

The blond genius found a small, tentative smile. "Uncle Howard never told me that one," he said softly.

Tony blinked at the quiet affection in his voice, "No? What did he tell you?"

Straightening, the smaller man shrugged, "Stories about a great war hero, a man who could lead anyone, fearless in battle. One that single-handedly took down Hydra."

Tony snorted and looked away; sharp blue eyes noted the red flush creeping up his neck. "So Howard didn't tell you about the time he singed my eyebrows off?" Tony asked, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eye.

Steve froze, eyes wide, "Really?"

"Or the time they put itching powder in my dress uniform?"

That startled a laugh out of the other man. "You're kidding."

"Or when they glued my helmet to my head?"

Steve lost it at that, his laugh full-throated and genuine.

Tony watched as the man before him transformed, the normally composed, cold features crinkling in genuine mirth. The man was beautiful.

Gasping, Steve sat back on a stool. "Ok, now you have to tell me," he said, gesturing to another stool.

Grinning, Tony sat and regaled the other man with tales of Howard and himself, fascinated that Steve was listening so attentively. For once the genius seemed unguarded, looking much younger and more carefree than he'd ever seen the man.

Tony wasn't sure how long they talked, but it seemed like only minutes when he knew it must have been hours. Eventually a lull fell over them as Steve's laughter trailed off with an amused sigh.

"I had no idea," he said, smiling wistfully. "Those didn't quite make it into the annals of Captain America."

Tony grinned at him roguishly. "They wouldn't, though, because those things happened to Tony Stark."

Steve nodded, understanding the distinction instinctively; how could he not? On some days Steve Rogers and Iron Man felt like two completely different people.

"Sir, apologies for the interruption, but you are leaving for Hong Kong in less than two hours," JARVIS said, his smooth tones echoing around the lab.

Tony started a little, still not quite used to the disembodied voice. He figured he'd come around, though; JARVIS really was amazing.

"Such a killjoy, JARVIS," Steve mumbled as he ran a hand through already mussed hair.

"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you up," Tony said as he stood to leave, looking apologetic.

"No, it's fine," the billionaire waved a hand dismissively. "I really don't sleep much anyway."

"Be gone long?" Tony asked hesitantly, not so keen on leaving.

"Nah, not too long – maybe a couple days. Big merger to see to."

Tony nodded and nervously cleared his throat, "Thanks for the chat and letting me wander around down here." Gathering his sketchbook, the soldier turned to head towards the door.

"Tony?"

As Steve called his name, the dark haired man turned back to look at him questioningly.

"You're welcome here," Steve gestured around the workshop. "Anytime."

Tony felt the flush rise warmly in his neck. And if his heart thumped a bit harder in his chest, Steve didn't need know.

-#-#-#-

Tony had no idea what the sound was.

One moment he was quietly eating breakfast with Bruce; the next, some sort of alarm was going off. Utterly confused, he instinctively leapt to his feet, head whipping around to look for some sort of attack. What the hell was going on?

Bruce, in contrast, silently stood from the table. Much calmer and quieter, his face was one of resigned determination.

Clear hazel eyes met his. "It's the alarm for the Avengers to assemble. Something or someone is attacking," Bruce explained.

Seconds later, Fury's voice surrounded them. "Avengers assemble," he announced formally.

"We're assembled, all two of us," Tony replied dryly.

The director continued on without faltering, "Something is approaching the city."

"Something?" Tony gave Bruce a bewildered look.

"Just go," Fury ordered gruffly.

All quiet once more, Tony was left more than a little confused. Looking at Bruce, he asked, "So, by any chance do you know how to fly a jet?"

Bruce rubbed his neck bashfully, "No… I was hoping you knew."

Tony chuckled, "Last plane I flew I crashed into the Arctic."

"Good point," Bruce mumbled with a wince.

The lunacy of the current situation was not lost on Tony. Disregarding the Loki incident, it was their first call as Avengers – and he and the only other Avenger available had no way of getting to the call. Frustrated, he raked a hand through his hair when a sudden idea occurred to him.

"Well, the big guy can just carry me then," Tony said as if it was the most obvious solution in the world.

Bruce stared at him in horror, but Tony was already hurrying to get his suit.

"No way," Bruce said firmly to the retreating figure. "Tony, you hear me? No way!"

-#-#-#-

Margret Carter frowned at the insistent buzzing. She eyed Steve's cell phone as it shook and vibrated. Frown deepening, she glanced towards her employer, who was currently asleep, draped across the chairs before her.

About to wake him up to answer whatever call he was getting, she hesitated. Steven looked so tired. He'd been working hard on this merger, one that would propel RSI into the field of medical research equipment – something he was doing, no doubt, on behalf of Doctor Banner.

Peggy felt a soft smile pull at her lips; despite his cold, calculating persona, Steve had a huge heart. He didn't trust easily or quickly, but once he found people trustworthy, he held onto them at any cost. Up until this past year it had been only herself and Bucky. Now, though, it encompassed two assassins, a sometime green monster, a Norse god, and a legendary super soldier.

She was hoping the last would be the one to get through even his thickest walls, something she'd never been able to do. There had been a time once when they had tried. She had no doubt that Steven had loved her, still loved her. Only she wasn't what he needed, and he wasn't what she needed. But they would always be there for one another.

Her eyes soft, Peggy looked over at Steven, still sleeping peacefully; he deserved happiness in this world. The phone stopped and she settled back in the chair, returning her attention to the tablet in her hands.

-#-#-#-

Tony felt rather guilty that he was secretly having a good time. He really shouldn't be having such fun when some sort of giant robot thing was attacking the outskirts of the city – after all, people could potentially get hurt. Still, he couldn't help the way he felt. Fighting made him feel useful, like he was needed again.

"Any ideas, Big Green?" he hollered towards Bruce's counterpart; the Hulk did not do communications gadgets, something Tony had to give him credit for, as he wasn't a fan of everyone nattering in his ear either.

Beside him Hulk grunted, shifting around on his knuckles, brow furrowing in thought. Tony smothered his grin; he had no idea why people called him a monster. From what he had observed, when people treated him like a monster, that's what they got. Tony was taking a different approach, treating Hulk with trust and respect; sure enough, that's what Tony was getting back.

It seemed that people had a lot of erroneous expectations when it came to the Hulk… Tony could relate.

"Eyes," the giant finally grunted decisively, thick fingers gesturing to his own before pointing up at the large robotic creature. Tony turned, blinking upwards at the oddly shaped machine – at least he was pretty sure it was a machine. Then again, what the hell did he know?

The Captain adjusted his shield and looked back at his companion, "You take the left, I'll take the right, and we'll meet in the middle." That craggy green face broke into a grin as the Hulk nodded in understanding and took off running. Tony returned the smile before heading in the opposite direction.

They flowed together like they'd been working together for years.

Tony grunted and cursed as he climbed his way up one of the giant spiderlike robotic legs. The machine was seemingly unconcerned they were on it – at least until they got to its head. Hulk beat him to the punch as one gigantic fist pummeled brutally at an eye casing. Tony joined him in short order, using his shield with deadly accuracy.

Logically, Tony knew the metal creature wasn't in any pain, that the thrashing and high-pitched metallic screeching was just annoyance at having its sight compromised. Still, it was a wholly unnerving sound.

A roar of triumph signaled the Hulk had managed to get through. Tony grunted, another blasphemy falling from his lips as the plastic casing finally broke. Reaching inside, Tony grabbed a handful of wires and yanked them out. Sharing a manic look with his green companion, he held up the twisted mess of cables.

"Oops. That looks important," Tony grinned, dropping the wires before turning back to grab more.

Hulk roared with laughter.

-#-#-#

Steve woke with a start as the plane bumped down the tarmac. Still groggy, he turned to glance at his CEO, who was busily typing away, a laptop perched on her knees.

"We there?" he rasped, rubbing tired eyes before turning to glance out at the dreary sky.

"Indeed, Steven. You slept most of the way," Peggy teased.

Snorting, the blond yawned again and reached for his cell phone.

"It was going off-," Peggy began to explain before a colorful curse rang out. In an instant Steve up and running to the back of the plane.

"Steven, what is it?" she called and moved to follow him. Already, the metallic tink of the suit snapping into place was audible.

"There was a call and Bruce and Tony are the only two in the city. I have to get back," he answered just as the faceplate clicked down and the blue eyes lit up.

Peggy stepped out of the way as he moved past her.

"I'll try to get back," he said.

An instant later, he was gone.

-#-#-#-

Tony stood panting amidst the rubble and dust, chest heaving as he watched the mechanical beast intently for any signs of life. The ground shook a little as the Hulk landed heavily by his side, dust and grime coating green, sweat-slick skin.

The sudden silence was deafening. The machine's mechanical whirs and clicks were absent as its empty eye sockets faced skyward; definitely dead.

Grinning, Tony turned to the Hulk and lifted his hand in a gesture Clint had taught him, a way of congratulating one another. The green giant looked at him curiously for a moment before he seemed to understand. Grinning widely, he lifted a giant palm, enthusiastically returning the motion.

Suddenly Tony found himself flying through the air and into the side of a smashed car. Dazed and winded, he blinked upwards as the concerned face of the Hulk appeared in his line of vision.

"Spangles ok?" he grunted.

Chuckling, the downed solider held his hand up. The Hulk, much gentler this time, lifted him to his feet and steadied him.

"No problem, big guy," Tony wheezed as he patted a thick arm. "We'll practice that one."

Hulk chuffed happily and Tony shared a grin with him as SHIELD suddenly descended on the area in force. As helicopters and suited agents appeared everywhere, Tony could feel the growing anxiety of the other. Sliding his shield onto his back calmly, he laid a comforting hand on the broad, heaving back.

"Don't worry, Jade Jaws," Tony reassured quietly. "I have your back, and so does Cupid."

Green hazel eyes regarded him intently for long moments. Tony felt as if the giant was looking into his soul, yet he held his ground, wondering just what he was seeing. Several heartbeats later the Hulk nodded, reaching some silent understanding. Tension relieved, Hulk abruptly yawned and sat.

Tony blinked in surprise, watching as muscles shrank, and bones seemed to shift and resettle. It was simultaneously fascinating and the most disturbing thing he'd ever witnessed. Moments later Bruce was back, sitting on the torn asphalt looking dazed and disheveled, but seemingly alright.

Crouching beside the scientist, Tony offered him a smile, "Welcome back."

Bruce squinted up at him. "You're looking very uncrushed," he rasped.

"The big guy and I are friends," Tony laughed. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, aside from the naked thing," Bruce replied as he looked down at the tattered remains of his pants.

"It does seem to be an unfortunate side effect of your condition," Tony teased.

As Bruce huffed a tired laugh, Tony shrugged out of his uniform top and handed it over to the nude man. "It might smell, but it's warm."

Bruce, too stunned to protest, found himself holding Captain America's red, white, and blue. Disbelief in his eyes, he was about to protest; he couldn't possibly put it on. Something, though – or rather _someone_ – in the back of his mind protested. As the impressions of _friend_ and _good_ washed over him, he found himself pulling on the top.

It was the most unselfish act he'd ever seen.

Grinning, Tony straightened, completely unconcerned that he was now half naked in the cool fall evening. And really, Bruce thought, the man had nothing to worry about – he was perfect.

When a strong hand reached down to pull him to his feet, the scientist went willingly. As Bruce stood, the top that fit the Cap perfectly practically hung off his slender frame. Standing closer to the soldier in the fading light, the scientist could see his torso more clearly. The Cap was a map of twisted white lines, circular puckered scar tissue, faded burns… the horrors of his life on display for the world to see.

Suddenly Bruce felt an overwhelming wash of empathy and understanding – feelings that were, amazingly, echoed by his other half.

"Bruce? You ok?" Tony frowned at the man in concern.

Hazel eyes blinked rapidly as if he was coming back to himself. "Yeah, I am," Bruce gave the other man a smile, genuine and wide.

Suddenly a very familiar noise whistled through the air over their heads and a flashy suit of armor landed before them. Bruce and Tony blinked at Iron Man as the faceplate flipped up, revealing a rather peeved looking Steve Rogers.

"Did I miss all the fun?"

Bruce and Tony shared a knowing look, and Tony crossed his arms over his bare chest, looking completely nonchalant.

"What fun?"

-#-#-#-

A frown of concentration wrinkled his brow as Tony carefully studied the pictures before him. The super solider stood shirtless and barefoot in the middle of his room, hair was tousled from sleep and glasses perched on his nose, as he tried in vain to come to a final decision.

Before him on the desk were some of his best drawings of one specific subject. His task now was selecting the very best; it was proving far more difficult than he'd anticipated. None of them seemed to be quite right… the lighting was off in one, a line misplaced in another. Huffing an exasperated breath, Tony adjusted the ice pack on his shoulder. He needed a smoke.

A hesitant knock had him turning towards the door as a tousled curled head peeked around the frame.

"Tony, you up?" Bruce called softly.

"Yeah. Here, Bruce," he answered as he turned around fully to face the doctor. The relief he saw in his hazel eyes took him aback.

"Oh, thank God," he huffed. "If you weren't up, I was going to call medical."

Tony blinked confused, "Why?"

Bruce looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, "Tony you've been sleeping for almost twenty-one hours."

Dark brows rose in understanding and he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Bruce. Didn't mean to make you worry."

After the battle with the giant spider-robot, they had been debriefed by Fury, who'd given them a rather grudging "good job." Steve, put out at having missed the battle, had returned to see to his business and the pair of heroes had gone back to the Tower. Once home, Tony had showered and promptly passed out.

"I thought I slept a lot after Hulking out, but you've got me beat," Bruce chuckled.

Tony grinned, unconsciously sliding his glasses back up his nose. "One of the side effects of the serum. I don't really need a lot of sleep normally, but if I'm injured and don't need to be up and going, I'll sleep until I heal."

Bruce looked intrigued. "Really? Is your shoulder ok?" he asked, pointing to the ice pack.

Tony nodded, "Fine. I'll be right as rain in a couple hours."

The doctor offered him a shy smile. "So… want to see what you missed in the land of the living?"

Tony looked at him apprehensively, "Do I?"

Smiling in earnest now, Bruce gestured for him to follow. Grabbing a t-shirt on the way, Tony trailed after the scientist to the common room. The TV was already on the news channel.

"JARVIS, can you show the news report from just after the battle?" Bruce requested.

Shrugging into the shirt, Tony watched as the picture changed to show a pretty lady reporter smiling at the camera.

"_Interesting news in the city today as the Avengers are once more making headlines."_

The scene changed to feature amateur footage of Tony perched on the Hulk's shoulder as they dashed through the city.

"_While some of the team seemed to be missing, Captain America and the monster known as the Hulk had no trouble subduing the unidentified assailant." _

This time the footage was much more professional, showing himself and Jade Jaws speaking briefly before attacking in tandem.

"_However it wasn't all doom and gloom, as this moment of levity was captured by an amateur videographer." _

Tony watched, amused as they showed his high-five with the Hulk. Chuckling, he turned to Bruce. "I still have a hard time getting used to seeing everything we do," he confessed.

The scientist, though, was giving him a solemn, serious look.

"I've watched that footage over and over," Bruce told him. "There are video clips on YouTube, we're trending on Twitter…" When he paused to take a shuddering breath, Tony remained silent.

"You… what you did…" Hazel eyes finally met his, wide and filled with hope. "You gave the other guy humanity."

Blinking in shock, Tony tugged his glasses off before slowly sitting beside the other man on the couch.

"Bruce," he said seriously, watching as the smaller man clasped his hands nervously. "I never gave the Hulk humanity. I gave him trust, friendship… but never humanity."

Tony waited patiently for the hesitant eyes to meet his. "He had that all on his own."

Eyes shining, Bruce felt emotions knot in his chest. Captain America… Tony Stark, the man was incredible.

"Thank you," he whispered, swallowing down his emotions.

Comfortingly patting his back, Tony smiled warmly. "Want to get some food? I'm starving."

"Definitely," Bruce replied with a suspiciously watery smile.


	9. Part IX

Author's Note: Here we are, next part. Awesome news the rough draft is done, and I have been asked to work a very neat prompt, so I'm pretty stoked just need to get this one done and up. Hopefully I get this done soon, thanks all for reading and reviewing!

Ravingbeauty, you are awesome lets do it.

That Has Such People

Part IX – **They do not love that do not show their love.**

Peggy tried not to laugh; she really did.

She knew Steven would be hurt that she found it so amusing, but truthfully she was sorely tempted. The face he was making at the tabloid would have anyone wanting to burst out in giggles.

The headline read "LOVE AMONG THE AVENGERS?" Below it, in full color, was a picture of a half-naked Captain America and a disheveled Bruce Banner wearing his uniform top. Disgusted, Steve tossed the paper aside and turned to glare out the plane window, brow pulled into a frown.

Curiously Peggy opened the gossip rag to find more pictures of the pair inside. Some of the images were taken from suggestive angles; if one squinted, they almost looked romantic.

"It's ridiculous," Steve muttered.

Peg played dumb. "What is?"

"_That_," the blond said vehemently, pointing at the pictures.

"Why?" she asked innocently. "I believe Anthony is free to love anyone he chooses."

Steve did not like hearing that.

"Of course he is – just not _Banner_," he huffed before turning to look resolutely out the window.

Peggy was close to losing her composure. Every glower, every glare, only succeeded in confirming what the woman had already suspected: Steven Rogers had a crush on Captain America.

-#-#-#-

"What the hell, man?" Clint demanded, waving the paper in front of his friend.

Tony looked up curiously, a cigarette dangling from his lips as smoke curled lazily upwards. Dark eyes tried to track the photo the archer was so incensed by. Eventually giving up, he sighed and focused on his friend instead, "Welcome back."

Clint had just returned from his assignment. Tired, hungry, and soul weary, he'd been keen to finish his debrief and return to the Tower. He'd only been at SHIELD a grand total of five minutes, though, when he'd been slapped in the face with the latest buzz on social media: Captain America and a mystery man that many speculated was a romantic interest. Not many people knew Hulk's alter ego.

But Clint did.

Pulling the cigarette from his lips, the older man sighed deeply as he got a look at the picture. "You don't really believe all that, do you?"

The archer had a carefully crafted speech he'd been rehearsing on the way over, ready to ream the man he'd thought had been his friend. And just like that, the Cap had taken the wind right out of his sails.

Dejected, Clint slumped down in the lounge chair across from the other. "No," he sighed.

Grinning, with dark eyes crinkled in amusement, Tony tugged off his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket before turning back to the archer. "You had a whole speech, didn't you?"

The agent hung his head. "Yeah…"

Amused, the super solider cocked his head, "You can still give it to me if it'll make you feel better."

This time the blond laughed outright, "Kind of pointless now, but I would like to know what happened."

Taking a final drag of his cigarette, Tony shrugged, "Bruce was nude after his transformation. I just loaned him my shirt – keeping an eye out for him, as promised."

Clint gave him an almost disbelieving grin, "You're far too good to be real."

Laughing loudly, the man shook his head modestly. "Naw, I just look after my friends."

Clint finally relaxed and leaned back in his chair. "So, how much trouble did you get in with Fury for that little stunt?"

"Not a lot," Tony said with a shrug and a grin. "He was angry, but that dame, Sarah, said it was positive feedback for SHIELD."

Clint laughed aloud, the infectious sound making Tony chuckle as well. "Don't laugh! Here, look," Tony said as he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen open, and handed it over.

Clint watched the video, roughly a minute long. The amateur footage showed Tony holding his hand up in a gesture Clint recognized as looking for a high five. Hulk returned the favor, and Tony went flying into a car.

Clint hooted with laughter. Gasping, he watched the clip twice more, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes. Eventually he looked up to find Tony grinning at him widely.

"Most viewed video on YouTube," he said proudly.

At that, the archer lost it once more, doubling over and laughing with abandon.

Suddenly Clint felt better, calmer, like he was home…

This was home.

-#-#-#-

He was not jealous.

There was no way he could possibly be jealous. Because if he was jealous, it would mean admitting the truth. And he was trying extremely hard to ignore the truth, though the task was becoming more and more fruitless by the day.

Half-heartedly Steve pushed around the designs floating before him. He didn't want to think anymore. All he ever did was think. Think about dark hair, dark eyes, and a crooked grin. An easy laugh, a smile that someone could fall in love with…

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. This was getting him nowhere. He couldn't, wouldn't… _shouldn't_ be having these thoughts, these feelings. There was a laundry list of reasons why it was futile to even entertain the notion. Yet he couldn't help but want, couldn't help but feel jealous.

The heart, he was learning, knew nothing of reason.

No matter how much he tried to change it.

Watching Bruce and Tony together had been hard, and seeing the fallout afterwards even harder. Peggy didn't seem to think there was anything between the two, but Steve wasn't so sure. Bruce was a good guy and, according to YouTube, Hulk and Cap were bros.

Sighing, Steve rubbed tiredly at his face. He knew he was being a coward – hiding in his lab wasn't going to solve anything. Truthfully, he'd wanted to see Tony the second he'd gotten home, but he'd hesitated. He didn't think he could bear seeing the two of them together.

"Sir, Captain Stark is outside requesting entrance," the AI announced smoothly.

Blue eyes blinked in surprise. What was he doing here? The smart thing to do would be to leave the door shut and say no. Then again, Peg had said that for someone so smart he could be incredibly stupid.

"Ok," was already falling from his lips.

The door hissed open. "Steve?" Tony's tentative voice echoed around the lab.

"Over here, Cap," he called. A dark head and the grinning face of Tony Stark appeared around the corner.

"You're back," he said, coming to stand before the inventor fully.

Steve, unable to help it, found himself returning the grin, "It would appear so."

Dark eyes glanced from him to the holo screen and back, "Am I interrupting?"

Steve shook his head, "Nah, I'm sort of in between things at the moment. What can I do for you?"

Suddenly Tony looked nervous and hesitant, "I umm, I have something I wanted to give you."

Steve watched curiously as Tony opened his sketchbook and tugged out a single sheet of paper.

"I'm not great with color, but I thought I'd give it a try," the man mumbled as he handed over the drawing. As Steve saw the picture before him, though, he found it suddenly impossible to comprehend what Tony was saying.

The drawing was of Iron Man and himself. Steve was in his suit, arms crossed and a smirk playing about his lips. Beside him Iron Man stood ready for battle, the armor rendered in amazing detail. The colors were bright and vibrant, blending and fading together; it was gorgeous.

Unable to hide his amazement, Steve looked up at the other man, "You drew this?"

Tony nodded, neck reddening, "Yeah."

Steve couldn't believe it; he'd noticed Tony sketching all the time, but had never really taken a moment to really look.

"Do you have more?" he found himself asking softly.

Tony blinked in surprise. "Oh yeah, sure. Lots," he said, unable to help his amazement. He handed over the sketchbook he currently held, "I've got more in my room, but you can look at the ones I have here."

Eagerly Steve flipped through the book, astounded by the sheer number and variety of drawings – everything from epic poses of the Avengers in costume to simple everyday candids to panels for comics. He chuckled at one in particular, which showed Fury berating a bored-looking Cap. The next one, though, had him hesitating. He grinned widely and laughed, unable to hold back the giggle that bubbled up. It was the Avengers… in chibi form.

Natasha stood, arms crossed and annoyed, while Thor waved his mini hammer. An adorable, pint-sized Hulk blushed as a small Hawkeye hugged tight to his neck. In the foreground, back to back, sat Iron Man and Captain America. Tony was asleep, leaning on his shield, while Steve played with his phone. It was very sweet, intimate, and adorable… just like the man who'd drawn it.

Steve loved it immediately.

Tony felt his heart stutter in his chest. The look of reverence and awe in Steve's face as he regarded the little doodle was humbling.

"You can keep it," he said softly, neck on fire as he met hesitant blue eyes.

"Really?" Steve asked, unable to help but glance down again at the work, drawn like a magnet to the miniature Cap and Iron Man.

"Yes," Tony insisted. "I have so many more. Always drawing," he said, running a self-conscious hand through his dark hair.

Steve looked up at him again. "You could be an artist," he said encouragingly.

Tony cocked his head playfully, "I was."

The genius felt his brow furrowing, "Really?"

Nodding the larger man shrugged, "Used to do comics before the war, and some during." 

Steve stared at him for a moment before an odd sort of look fell across his features. Without a word, he turned and purposefully crossed the lab, heading for a pile of musty looking boxes. Tony waited curiously as the inventor rooted around for several moments before returning with a bundle of yellowing papers.

As he silently handed them over, Tony glanced down at the thick stack, taking a moment to recognize his own work. A slow, sad smile crossed his features as he gently touched the cover of the comic, _The Adventures of Captain America. _

Steve felt a sudden clench in his heart at the expression on Tony's face; it was so sweetly melancholy.

"I was wondering why that was in dad's old things," he explained softly. "He didn't strike me as the type to collect comics."

"I didn't get as much time when we were overseas, but I tried to get some done… Captain America meant a lot to some people. He provided an escape, always coming out on top."

Steve swallowed thickly, "You speak as if he's someone else."

Tony's lips twisted. "He is. I'm just plain old Tony Stark."

As Steve Rogers looked into those soft dark eyes, he realized with an amazing, horrifying clarity the truth he'd been running from for so long – he'd fallen head over heels in love with Tony Stark.

-#-#-#-

Margaret Carter was a smart woman. Really a brilliant woman in her own right, but she was still a little surprised when she noticed Steve dragging himself into the office looking very lackluster – an anomaly for a man who prided himself on being brisk and polished in every aspect of his life.

Peggy glanced through the window of his office and spotted the man staring off into space – no phone, no holo screen, nothing. Steve was always doing something; the man had never once been still since she'd known him. Amused, she watched as he sighed like a lovesick teenager and looked down at something on his desk, a soft, genuine smile creeping across his features. Peg had to bite her lip; if that wasn't the look of a man in love, then she didn't know what was.

Shaking her head, she made of point of nosily opening the door, biting her lip to keep from smiling as she managed to startle the man.

"Steven," she said, voice rolling softly with her accent.

"Peg," he returned, hurriedly covering what it was he'd been looking at.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, all business now, and looked up at his CEO.

"I need you to meet a client for lunch," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Steve frowned, "Why?"

Tapping away on her tablet, she looked down at him blandly. "It's a big investor for SRI." Not a lie, actually; Tony Stark was part owner of the company. Howard Stark had made sure his brother was well looked after, should he ever be found.

"Must be an important client," Steve grumbled, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Yes, so make a good impression."

Snorting, the blond waved airily, "Anything else?"

The smartly dressed woman was already striding away, heels clacking noisily on the expensive floor. "Don't be late," she called as she exited the office.

Once outside, she mentally checked off stage one of her plan. Moving on to stage two, she opened her cell phone and selected one of her contacts. Smirking, she headed to her office and listened for the other to pick up.

"Stark," came the brisk answer.

"Hello, Anthony, it's Peggy," she said, sounding every inch the professional she was.

"Hello, ma'am. How are you?" he replied politely.

Peg felt a soft smile tug her lips at his old world manners. Tony Stark was a breath of fresh air in a society that sometimes forgot where it came from.

"Very well," she returned, entering her large office. "Sorry to bother you, Anthony, but I have a favor to ask of you…"

-#-#-#-

"You're making a face, Cap," Clint commented from his position sprawled on the couch.

"I bet I am," he murmured, looking down at his phone.

The blond contorted on the couch and managed to look at him over the arm of the furniture, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, Miss Carter wants me to meet someone for lunch for her," he explained, tucking the phone away and pulling off his glasses thoughtfully. His quiet confession got the archer's attention immediately.

"Like a date? Steve's CEO is setting you up on a date?"

Tony froze. A date? He had a sudden attack of nerves. He wasn't so good with dates. His sudden horror must have shown on his face.

"Whoa… easy, Tony. What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Groaning, the soldier buried his face in his hands. "A date…" he groaned and looked up at his friend. "I never really did well with dates. I mean, I've had dates but they were… and then I went into the ice."

Clint felt his heart break for the man. "I was just kidding, Tony. It's probably just some Captain America fanatic that wants to have lunch with their hero," he tried to placate.

"That doesn't sound much better," he muttered, giving his friend a mulish look.

"What doesn't seem much better?" Bruce asked as he entered the room, tablet in hand.

"Cap has a mystery lunch date," Clint said, tossing the curly-haired man a small grin.

Bruce joined them immediately looking interested, "Really? Is it a date-date?"

Tony groaned, "Not you, too…"

The scientist gave him a small smile, the corner of his mouth dimpling as he sat on the couch arm beside Clint.

"Not necessarily a date. Could just be a fanboy looking for a one-on-one meeting with the Cap," Clint nobly defended.

Bruce laughed, "You're right, that doesn't seem much better."

Tony still had his face in his hands, suddenly dreading this little favor. This hadn't seemed like such a big deal at the outset.

Bruce felt the uncomfortable roll of the other guy in his mind. It wasn't an angry vibe, though – it was one of concern. Big Green was very fond of Tony and wanted to help. Bruce felt himself smiling in response as he promised he would.

"How about this, Clint and I will follow you to the restaurant and stay nearby just in case," he offered.

Dark eyes looked up at him gratefully, "Yeah?"

Both Clint and Bruce nodded. "We got your back, Cap," Clint affirmed, expression resolute.

-#-#-#-

Steve was running late. He hadn't meant to be late – he really, truly hadn't – but he'd gotten caught up at R&D. Those little geeks never ceased to amaze him, though he'd go to his grave before admitting it.

Now hurrying into the fancy restaurant, he tried to straighten his tie as he slid his jacket back on. The hostess smiled prettily at him, "Mr. Rogers?" Nodding, he tugged at his cuffs, already falling into his cool, aloof persona. Just another business lunch, nothing to worry about.

Only when he rounded the artfully decorated room did his steps falter as he recognized the big, dark haired, nervous-looking man sitting at the table. What was Tony doing here?

Steve felt his heart thump harder in his chest as his palms grew sweaty. It took all his self-control to make his legs move towards the table as dark eyes finally noticed him. The wide, genuine smile Steve got was like a punch to his arc reactor.

"Steve, what are you doing here?" Tony asked, standing automatically as the billionaire joined him.

Steve Rogers was no dummy; he knew a set up when he saw one. "I think I'm here to have lunch with you," he said as they settled at the table.

Tony lit up, "Really?"

Amused, the genius accepted the menu, suddenly ravenous, "Yes."

Tony couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh, "I'm glad – I was worried Miss Carter was trying to set me up." Steve's smile suddenly felt a little brittle, the offhand statement reminding him why his crush was futile.

"You ok, Steve?" Tony asked, concern in every line of his face.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. It's just been a busy day at the office," he replied, looking down, steadying himself. "So, you hungry?" he asked as he turned to look at the menu again.

Tony gave a dramatic sigh, "Always."

-#-#-#-

"You're kidding," Bruce whispered, looking at his companion across the table.

Keen grey eyes watched the drama unfold across the restaurant, "Nope, it's definitely Steve…" Hazel eyes widened as the scientist sat back in his chair.

"Why would it be Steve?" he asked more to himself than the other.

Clint gave him a look, as if to say it was obvious, "I think it's a set up."

Bruce cocked his head, "Set up?"

Nodding slowly, Clint turned back to Bruce and gave him a wide grin – one that had Bruce's pulse fluttering. "It was definitely a date," Clint said.

-#-#-#-

"I should fire you," Steve announced loudly as he stormed into Peggy's office. Her administrative assistant jumped, looking horrified, but the CEO simply looked up at him, unperturbed.

"You won't," she returned, handing over the last of the documents to the still-terrified woman, who immediately bolted.

Unconcerned about the assistant's flight from the room, Steve huffed and settled into an oversized chair before Peggy's desk.

"Did you not enjoy your lunch?" she asked, sitting back in her own chair.

Steve glared at her for good measure before running an agitated hand through his hair. "Why did you do it, Peg?" he asked softly, trying not to let his heartache creep into his voice.

She felt a wash of guilt, "I just want you to be happy, Steven. Anthony is good for you."

The small blond smiled hollowly, "I don't think he feels the same way."

-#-#-#-

Tony was the man with a plan.

He figured it was a damn good plan, too. As a matter of fact, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. It was time he took matters into his own hands where Clint and Bruce were concerned. He wanted to see them happy. Both of them were his friends and he knew they'd be happier together – and today his lunch with Steve had struck a chord.

He knew it had just been a meeting with a friend for lunch. Deep down, though, a part of him wished it had been more, wished it had been a date… Shaking his head, he firmly set his jaw and navigated through the kitchen, deftly handling pots and pans.

Life was too short to wait on love, to wait for that perfect moment in time. Sometimes love needed a little bit of a hand, and he was going to be the one to provide it.

-#-#-#-

"Bruce, dinner," Tony called, sticking his head into the lab in time to see the scientist look up owlishly from his microscope.

"Oh, is it?" Bruce asked, glancing at the time even as his stomach grumbled audibly.

"Yeah, I'm just going to grab Steve. See you up there."

Nodding, Bruce smiled his thanks as the soldier disappeared.

After saving his work, the scientist wandered up to the kitchen and halted just inside the door, eyes widening in surprised amazement.

The table was set for two, candles flickering intimately as covered dishes steamed invitingly on the table.

Mouth still open in shock, he heard another set of footsteps approaching. Bruce was unable to do more than stare as Clint strode in from the other side of the kitchen and stumbled when he saw the scene before him.

Slowly the archer turned to look at Bruce, and the scientist was stunned to see Clint blushing. Colour high on his cheeks, the normally talkative man seemed lost for words. Hesitantly Bruce stepped further into the room, offering Clint a hesitant smile, "Clint?"

Hawkeye had no idea what to do… He was helplessly drowning in those beautiful hazel eyes. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.

Bruce looked back towards the table and spotted a piece of paper folded neatly in the middle. Curiously he picked it up and carefully unfolded it. It looked like a page out of comic book, but rougher. The panels featured he and Clint having dinner, smiling at one another, hands clasped as they looked at one another lovingly. There were no words, but the message was clear enough.

Wordlessly he handed the page to Clint, who'd come to see what it was. The archer went white as a sheet as a sound close to a whimper escaped his lips.

"Bruce, I…" he took a breath and looked down at his hands, watching them clench and unclench as his heart and stomach twisted unpleasantly. Nervously he looked up again to find Bruce waiting for him. Without hesitation, the scientist pressed a clumsy, awkward, incredibly poignant kiss to his lips. It was quick and sweet and left the other man in shock.

Bruce blushed and began to turn away, thinking he'd made a mistake. Clint caught his arm, though, and pulled him close once more. "No way, Freckles," he breathed and kissed him properly, and very thoroughly.

Bemused hazel eyes blinked as the Hulk purred in contentment in his mind. For the first time in a long while, everything was right with the world. They parted sometime later, flushed and giddy, smiling shyly at one another.

"Shall we eat?" Bruce asked, and Clint nodded as they settled at the intimate table, hands clasped, each man thinking they'd have to thank the Cap...

Later, though.

Tonight… tonight was for them.

-#-#-#-

"You look awfully smug," Steve commented, eyeing Tony over the pizza.

Tony Stark couldn't help but smirk. "No real reason," he commented, trying to look composed. Inside he was yelling in happiness; he figured it was going well as neither Clint nor Bruce had chased him down.

Blond brows raised, but the engineer gave him a shrug and let it go. To say he'd been surprised when Tony had shown up at the lab, pizza in hand, would be an understatement. He really hadn't been expecting anything after the nice, but depressing, lunch they had earlier. Steve had firmly decided that his crush was utterly futile, that he was doomed to his unrequited love.

So when the handsome man had shown up with food, the billionaire had been unable to say no. Hell, he didn't think he'd ever be able to say no to Tony. Heaven help him if the man ever figured that out.

Tony watched as Steve moodily stared at the pizza in his hand. He knew something was on the man's mind. "Steve?" he asked softly, waiting until blue eyes met his.

Steve felt his breath shudder out all at once; the concern in the soft brown eyes was genuine. Tony was everything he could ever hope for. Steve felt his mouth open unbidden, the words ready to tumble out. Even if it ruined whatever this tentative thing was between them… he wanted him to know.

The alarm blared balefully around the lab.

The two men shared a regretful look before hurrying towards their respective suits.


	10. Part X

Author's Note: Got to get this one done, promised myself I would not start another one until I finish this one. Otherwise I'll get sidetracked so need to get this one done. Thank you all for putting up with me, and all the support and also so fan art by roodles! Awesome! Enjoy!

Hats off to you again ravingbeauty, thanks you for all you do.

That Has Such People

Part X – **The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact**

"What the fuck is this thing!?" Tony cursed as he dodged out of the way of some sort of thick, oozing tentacle. Beside him on the ground, Hulk growled in agreement and punched another one of the wriggling appendages with a sick, wet, sucking sound.

"I have no idea… It seems to be some sort of giant cephalopod." Steve answered, blasting it for all he was worth.

"I have no goddamn clue what that means," Tony groused and hurled his shield at the thing, swearing roundly when it just stuck to the creature's gooey body.

"That didn't work out well," Hawkeye noted dryly. The archer could barely contain his laughter at the stream of obscenities that flowed from their beloved leader. Steve rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"Captain America, tone down the language." Director Fury cut in, sounding strained, as if he too was on the verge of losing it.

Biting back a few choice words for the director and frustrated beyond reason, Tony lifted half a burning car and hurled it at the blob, letting loose a roar of rage that even the Hulk would be proud of. It hit the thing center mass, and the solider grunted in perverse satisfaction. As with everything else they had thrown at it, the monster would absorb the car, only this time…

"It's melting," he mumbled with amazed realization. His quick mind connected the dots.

"Fire!" he yelled over the comms. Nearby Hulk turned to him, looking from Tony to the car and back before nodding in understanding. Steve and Clint, however, were another story.

"What are you talking about?" the archer asked, pausing as another one of his arrows landed fruitlessly in the gelatinous mass.

"Fire. Use fire – it melts," Tony answered absently, scanning the ground for something else flammable.

"Roger that, Cap," Steve acknowledged as he pulled up his flamethrower, glad he'd added this particular modification.

On the ground Tony finally spotted a possibility. A nearby store stood dark and empty, windows blown out – a liquor store. Ignoring the crunch of glass, he hurriedly jumped in and scanned the darkened shelves for bottles with highest alcohol content. Cradling several bottles, he briefly paused at the cash register to grab some sort of novelty t-shirt on the way out. Once back on the street, he could see the Hulk fending off several encroaching tentacles.

"Big guy, buy me some time?" he hollered at the other. With a roar, the Hulk nodded his mammoth head and renewed his attack. Working quickly, Tony tore up the shirt, opened a bottle, and stuffed the material in the top.

"What are you doing, Cap?" Steve called as he hovered nearby, burning off the parts of the ooze he could get to.

"Fighting fire with fire," he grunted back. Fishing out his lighter, he shook the bottle to soak the rag before lighting it. After waiting for the flame to catch properly, he heaved his arm back and let fly.

"Fire in the hole!" he yelled as the burning bottle hit the creature dead on, flames spreading quickly.

"Holy shit! Was that a Molotov cocktail, Cap?" Clint asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Quickly lighting another, Tony moved around the creature and tossed the bottle. "Goddam right it is," he confirmed.

"Badass, Cap," the archer laughed.

Tony dodged and weaved, circling the base of the thing, managing six direct hits. With its base now on fire, the creature screeched angrily, thrashing the whole while. Tony wasn't sure if it felt pain, but damned if he didn't feel a little sorry for the abomination.

Stepping back out of range of the now smoking tentacles, he joined the Hulk to wait and see what would happen next.

"It's still moving," Clint commented.

"It's making a lot of noise," Steve complained as he blasted it again.

"Won't die…" Hulk grated.

"Hit the nail on the head there, Big Green," Tony muttered, wondering what the hell else they could possibly do to it. The thing was on fire, it smelled like rotting garbage, and it was still kicking.

His answer showed up in a swirl of crimson cloak and a low rumble of thunder. Tony had never been happier to see the over-the-top Norse god.

"Brethren, I have returned," Thor greeted the team. "What goes here?" he called out.

Tony didn't even hesitate. "Thor, hit it with everything you have," he ordered.

Grinning happily, Thor moved to comply with the command, swinging Mjolnir as the sky immediately darkened.

A hairsbreadth after he'd called out to the god, a terrible realization occurred to him – Steve was still in the air. Worried, Tony called out a warning, "Steve, he's go-" Before he could get it out, though, the exuberant god did as he'd been instructed.

One second Tony was standing in the middle of the street; the next moment he was flying through the air, only to have his unplanned flight abruptly halted by a brick wall. Wind completely knocked from him, the soldier slid to the ground; he barely had a moment to catch his breath before he was hit by a giant blob of ooze.

It tasted worse than it smelled.

"Oh gross, Cap," Clint chirped in his ear. Groaning, the super soldier heaved himself to his feet and tried to wipe the sticky gunk from his face and eyes.

"Urgh," he muttered as he spotted the Hulk staggering upright nearby; he'd been saved from being gunked by an errant piece of wall.

"Clint, you ok?" he asked, spitting as he tried to clear his mouth of the foul-tasting mess.

"Just dandy, Cap," the archer replied, humor lacing his tone. "I was well out of range."

"Thor, all good?" he called, watching as the big blond landed before him, looking very pleased with his work.

"Well fought, companions," he cried.

"I'll take that as a yes," Tony mumbled as he carefully tried to get a cigarette out without drenching it in goo. Eventually, though, he gave up and just stuck it in his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste.

"Iron Man, you ok?" he asked, lighting the tip of his smoke, waiting for the familiar voice in his ear.

It never came.

"Steve?" he tried again, lifting a hand to his ear and straining his enhanced hearing. His only reply was static.

"_Shit_. Hawkeye, where is he?" he yelled, already running.

"Before the blast he was half a block up from you. I'm already headed that way."

"What is amiss, friend Anthony?" Thor asked, concerned.

"Steve's not answering. We've got to find him," he yelled, already running. Within seconds Hulk fell in stride with him, Thor close behind.

Tony's heart was in his throat. He couldn't… Steve couldn't… He tried to push aside the dark thoughts that crept across his mind even as his stomach churned at mental images of Iron Man lying twisted and broken amidst the rubble.

"Steve!" he yelled again, terror leaking into his tone as he frantically searched for any flash of red or gold.

"Cap, on your four," Clint yelled. Tony abruptly changed directions, never breaking stride as he cleared a broken wall and kept going.

"Steve!" he yelled, scrabbling up the pile of rubble. The building had come down, and he was almost on top of the armor before he saw a glint of gold. Without thought he dropped to his knees and dug frantically, unmindful of the sharp edges and torn metal that ripped through his gloves and bit deeply into the flesh beneath. Heart in his throat, he strained to move the heavy rubble, only half noticing when the others joined him.

Together they made short work of the debris, revealing the battered form, its chest piece conspicuously dark.

"Steve!" Tony cried, knowing that light meant life. Hurriedly he pulled off Steve's faceplate, revealing his pale, still countenance. Panicking, Tony grabbed a metal shoulder and gave the man a desperate shake.

"Come on, Steve," he said desperately, pleading internally with whatever higher power was out there to let those blue eyes open for him. Just when he was sure he was going to break down, the man in his arms gave a weak cough. Relief such as he'd never known flooded Tony's system as the arc reactor weakly flickered back to life.

Inhaling wheezily, the genius seemed to be in a daze as he blinked up at the man holding him. "Hey, Cap," he croaked, managing to find a weak smirk. "We win?"

Tony wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Without thought, he gathered the metal figure close and held him tenderly. Brown eyes closed as he shot a prayer of thanks heavenwards, unsure who it was meant for, but knowing that someone must have been watching over Steve today.

"Better get him to medical," Bruce suggested gently, reminding Tony they were still on ground zero.

"Indeed, Captain. Steven should seek medical aid," Thor said from where he stood next to the Doc.

"Transport is on the way," Clint said as he joined them, standing close to Bruce and offering him a supporting arm. Nodding in acknowledgment, Tony cradled Steve easily and stood, barely noticing the blood that dripped from his ruined hands.

"Hey," the billionaire protested softly, too tired to do anything aside from resting his head against the broad shoulder.

"Hush," Tony soothed absently as he descended back to street level to await the transport.

Thor watched them depart thoughtfully before turning to the other two. A blond brow rose as he noticed Bruce leaning into the archer and a sly smile stretched his lips, "Much has happened in my absence. You must tell me what has transpired."

-#-#-#-

Tony stared unseeing at the clear night sky, vision obscured by the smoke curling from the end of his cigarette. Heavily bandaged fingers pulled the cigarette from his lips as he exhaled softly, letting the cool wind whisper across his overheated body.

The calm of the moment, however, did nothing to quiet the churning of his mind. From the battle, to Steve's injury, to sitting and worrying endlessly in medical, it had been a long day… His worry was not for himself, though. The injuries to his hands, while serious for an average person, would be fine. He'd cut them deeply during his frantic dig, but they would heal in a day or so.

No, his worry was for another. When all was said and done, Steve had bruised his ribs, fractured his wrist, and received a mild concussion. It could have been much worse. It almost had been.

The soldier shuddered and took another long drag as he tried to make sense of his world; it had been rocked to its very foundation today. The thought of losing Steve was impossible. He couldn't even imagine being here without him, didn't want to be in this time without him.

Steve had shown him a world that was beyond anything he'd ever dreamed, had made the future accessible for him – even accepted him as he was. He was the only one not pushing Tony to change. That cocky, aloof blond, who was far too smart for his own good, had come to mean the world to Tony. It was confusing, troubling… terrifying…

Tony was terrified of what this meant, terrified of his own feelings, terrified of what Steve may say. His fear hadn't stopped anything, though. It had happened without him even realizing, creeping up and blindsiding him with the force of Thor's hammer.

The truth of it was he'd fallen in love with Steve Rogers.

Stubbing out his cigarette, Tony buried his head in his hands with a pained groan. He hadn't meant to – it had just been impossible not to. He was funny, charming, sweet… handsome… and incredibly patient.

"It's a fool's dream, Stark," he chastised himself, as if saying the words aloud would help. A despondent chuckle fell quietly from his lips.

"What would you say, brother?" he asked aloud to the night sky as he looked upwards once more, head and heart in knots. Shuddering out a sigh, Tony found a smile tugging at his lips, melancholy and sweet; he was almost able to hear Howard's voice once more, see the confident smile and the tilt of his hips as he crossed his arms, giving Tony an exasperated glare for asking such a ridiculous question.

_Hold on to what happiness you find, little brother… it is few and far between in this world. _

Absently he wiped his eyes. "You're right," he murmured. "You always were."

-#-#-#-

He felt like he'd been chewed up and spat back out. Everything hurt. Hell, even his hair hurt.

Slowly, painfully, Steve worked on opening his eyes, though the effort cost him more energy than he wished to spare. Finally he managed to blink, blearily panning across the room he was in. Bright lights, beeping machines, sterile antiseptic smell… he was in a hospital.

Someone squeezed his hand gently.

"Ok, Steve?" a familiar deep voice asked.

Slowly, carefully, the injured man turned to look at the source, more than pleased to see Tony sitting by his bedside.

"Feel like I got hit by a truck," he croaked.

A callused thumb rubbed the back of his hand tenderly. "Not far from the truth. A building collapsed on you."

Just the thought of it made him hurt. "Must have survived… hurt too much to be dead," Steve joked.

Tony could only manage a shaky smile. "You had us worried, Steve. You had _me_ worried…" he confessed, feeling the dreaded blush heat his neck.

Steve blinked; he must be on some serious painkillers because he was definitely hallucinating. There was no way Tony… He pushed the dangerous thoughts away as he tightened his grip comfortingly, noticing feeling the stiff material of bandages for the first time.

Frowning he looked down at their joined hands. "What happened to your hands?" he asked, startled to see Tony's hands swathed in white from wrist to fingertips.

The soldier shrugged, unconcerned, "Nothing to worry about. Worry about getting better, sleep."

The plan sounded like a good one as Steve gave a jaw-cracking yawn. Muzzy from the drugs, he drifted towards slumber once more.

"You'll be here when I wake-up?" he asked softly, not positive if it had been aloud or in his own muddled mind.

Tony's reply, however, he was sure was just his own desperate imagining – a tender kiss to his brow and a softly given promise of "Always."

-#-#-#-

Tony woke slowly, moving thickly through layers of sleep to blink dark eyes open, only to rear back frantically when he realized he was nose to nose with Clint Barton.

"You weren't kidding, were you, Freckles?" the archer mused, his grin wide. "Morning sunshine," he said to Tony.

Confused and disoriented, Tony sat upright and realized he was still in the hospital where he'd passed out watching over… Steve!

He turned quickly to see the still wan man propped up on pillows and looking at him with relieved amusement. Tony spotted Bruce next, sitting on the far side of Steve.

The scientist offered up an explanation, "I told them not to worry, that sleeping was normal."

Tony yawned and flexed his hands before wiggling his fingers experimentally. "How long was I out this time?"

"Twelve hours," Clint supplied helpfully. "Steve got worried when he couldn't get you up."

Sheepishly the super solider gave Steve an apologetic smile.

"Bruce explained," the blond rasped. "Wish I could do that."

Tony gave him a lopsided grin, completely unaware of the picture he was presenting at that moment. Steve, however, was very aware. The plain white t-shirt was almost indecently tight and all but see-through across the super soldier's heavily muscled torso. The dark gray SHIELD sweatpants were riding tantalizingly low, so that Steve's blue eyes couldn't help but fasten on the strip of skin revealed when the hem of his t-shirt rode up. Tony's thick, dark hair stood out from his head at odd angles, his dark eyes slumberous… bedroom eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked as he moved towards the bed, absently unwinding the bandages on his hands as he went.

"Like death warmed over," Steve wheezed, shifting painfully. He hated hurting his ribs, but it was an unfortunate reality of his condition. With the arc reactor set into his chest, his ribcage had been forced to heal around the inlay, making the bones brittle and prone to injury.

Hands now free of the wrapping, Tony spared only a moment to note the new scar marring the back of his left hand before cracking his knuckles, once more right as rain.

Clint, however, was not so flippant; he grabbed Tony's hands and looked them over with amazement. "Your hands were a mess yesterday… they look like nothing happened now."

Tony shrugged self-consciously, "Power of the serum."

Steve latched onto Clint's comment. "What did you do to your hands?" he asked. "Was it the battle?"

"No, he did it while digging you out," Clint explained before Tony could stop him. The Cap glared at his friend, but the blond cheerfully, obliviously, continued, "He waited too long to get them cleaned out, too. The doctors had to cut them open again because they'd started to heal over…" He trailed off at the pleading look Tony was giving him.

On the bed, Steve looked stricken and Bruce, sensing the sudden tension, quietly led Clint from the room.

Tony wanted to throttle the archer even though he knew he meant well. Sighing, he moved to settle beside Steve's bed once more, "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

Steve still looked shaken so Tony automatically took his hand, the engineer latching onto Tony like a lifeline. With surprising strength, the man on the hospital bed turned Tony's hand over and examined it intently.

Tony felt his heart rise into the throat at the gentle touches, the nimble fingers running along the new silvery line across his skin. It was on the tip on his tongue to say it was nothing, when suddenly soft lips were pressing against the scar. Tony froze.

Steve had no idea what possessed him to do it, but he couldn't regret it once it was done. "Thank you," he mumbled against the warm skin before pulling away, unable to meet the dark eyes. "Thank you for coming back for me."

Emotions tangled in Tony's chest as large blue eyes slowly looked up at him. Howard's words echoing in his mind, Tony leaned forward, closing the distance between them. The world fell away; nothing existed beyond the two of them.

Mere inches separated them when a sudden commotion in the hallway broke the moment; Tony jolted backwards just as the door burst open to reveal Thor, bearing the most obscenely large bouquet of flowers Tony had ever seen.

"Shield brothers, I come bearing gifts to herald your recovery," the enthusiastic god bellowed. Grinning he held his gift aloft, looking very pleased with himself. "I have been told this is a Midgardian custom when one is healing."

Tony solemnly nodded and accepted the proffered flowers, "Thank you very much, Thor. That's very thoughtful of you."

Steve was still trying to process what had just happened; his brain had completely short-circuited. Captain America had just about kissed him. He was sure of it… wasn't he? Frowning, he glared at the sheet over his legs. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he'd hallucinated the whole thing.

"Most wonderful, Anthony. Your hands look anew!" the god rejoiced. Though Steve vaguely registered Thor's presence, he felt his eyes drifting towards Tony again. Only Cap would stand in the middle of the hospital room, having a serious conversation with a god from another dimension, holding flowers.

As the door opened again a group of doctors appeared, followed by Bruce and Clint, and the room descended into chaos as everyone began talking at once. Steve, still a little weak on his pins, found it more than a little overwhelming.

Suddenly a sharp whistle rent the air, abruptly silencing the chatter. All eyes immediately turned to Captain America, who stood tall and stern in the center of the room.

"Right, everybody out except the doctor," he ordered, all business. Thor looked like a kicked puppy and Tony gave him a lopsided smile, "Tell you what, big guy – head back with Bruce and Clint, get some food, and I'll join you in a bit."

Appeased, Thor clapped him on the shoulder, "That is most agreeable, Anthony." Turning, he snagged the other two and headed out of the room, loudly extolling the virtues of poptarts as a meal for every occasion.

Tony started to follow and give Steve a moment alone with the doctor, but a soft call made him pause.

"Tony?" The voice was raspy and low, but he heard it all the same.

As Tony turned back, Steve offered him a tired smile. "Stay?" he asked, a wealth of meaning behind the words.

Tony swallowed down the sudden rise in his throat. "Sure," he said, returning to the bedside. The doctor, every inch a professional, maintained his composure throughout – no mean feat around the Avengers, Tony was learning.

"Well, Mr. Rogers, you're free to go home. Just refrain from anything strenuous and keep the brace on." He flipped open his chart, "I also recommend having someone spend the night with you tonight to be on the safe side. The concussion was mild, but it's best to be cautious."

Tony nodded seriously, paying close attention, and offered the doctor his hand, "Thank you very much, doctor."

The man in lab coat blinked in surprise, cheeks coloring slightly. Steve tried to hold back a grin at the rather awestruck look on the medical man's face. He knew that feeling well; Captain America was all but a force of nature.

Properly flustered now, the doctor beat a hasty retreat, promising to send a nurse in with the discharge papers. As the other man left, Tony rounded on Steve with a happy grin, "Well, that's good news – you can go home. Let's get you dressed."

It was one order the genius was happy to comply with.

Slowly and painfully, Steve sat up until he was eventually sitting with his legs over the side of the bed. Even small movements made pain flare in his chest, forcing him to move gingerly. Wrinkling his nose, he paused to rest, breathing shallowly as he waited for the pain to pass.

Then Tony was there; without words, he gently untied the blue gown and carefully slipped it off. Steve tried not to shudder as those strong and capable hands gently smoothed over his bound chest.

"Ok?" Tony asked softly, unable to help but lay a hand gently on the steady blue light peeping out from under the bindings.

"Yeah," Steve mumbled, trying to help as Tony gently guided his arms through the sleeves of a roomy sweater.

As he zipped up the hoodie, Tony paused. "You ok to go home in the hospital pants?" he asked.

Steve nodded; he really didn't care what he was wearing as long as he got out of this hospital room. Not a moment too soon, the nurse bustled in with a wheelchair and a stack of paperwork. Before Steve could even process moving, though, he found himself lifted easily and settled gently in the chair.

Too surprised to protest, he dazedly found himself looking up into the grinning face of Tony Stark.

"Let's go home."


	11. Part XI

Author's Note: Finally we get to the fluff, been a long build I know but here it comes, and it's tooth rotting I promise. Thanks so much for staying with me on this one, we'll get this one done I promise! For now enjoy the long awaited fluff.

Thank you ravingbeauty for all your hard work, it's looking so good.

That Has Such People

Part XI - **Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.**

He couldn't get comfortable.

And he was tired.

And his ribs ached.

While he was more than happy to be back in the Tower and among friends, Steve had damn near hit his breaking point. He wanted to cry out in frustration.

Sitting beside him on the couch, Tony could feel Steve growing more agitated by the moment. Surreptitiously he watched as Steve kept shifting, first propping himself against the arm of the couch, then trying pillows, eventually giving up on them, too.

Tony glanced around the large room where the team had gathered to watch _Harry Potter, _which was apparently a mandatory part of his education in modern cinema. While Tony found the movie fascinating, he was worried about Steve. The others were in various states of relaxation around the room. Thor lounged in an armchair, eyes fastened on the TV, while Clint and Bruce curled together on the other couch.

Leaning close to the blond, Tony laid a gentle hand on his leg. "Ok?" he asked.

Baleful blue eyes looked at him. "No," he whispered.

Tony was a little panicked; Steve looked like he was on the verge of tears. Without pausing to consider the ramifications, Tony found himself carefully lifting the injured man. Swinging his legs onto the couch, Tony gently settled the smaller man between them.

Surprised, Steve was stiff within the embrace for a heartbeat, but then leaned back with a soft sigh of surrender. Using Tony's wide chest for support, he was finally able to breathe comfortably. The super solider easily took the extra weight as Steve settled more firmly against him. Lulled by the strong, steady heartbeat against his back, the blond yawned widely and relaxed. Warm, safe, and comfortable, he felt himself drifting towards sleep within moments.

Tony knew the second the injured man fell asleep, his head lolling back against Tony's shoulder as he fully relaxed. It was a sign of utter trust, and Tony was humbled by it. Tightening his arms, Tony held the inventor close and felt himself begin to relax. Steve was ok. He was safe – and he was in his arms. All was right with the world.

Looking up across the room, he met the smirking eyes of Clint. Though the archer just winked and turned back to the TV, Tony felt his neck reddening. It was well worth the embarrassment, though.

They watched the movie to the end, Steve sleeping soundly throughout. As the credits rolled the others slowly, sleepily, departed for their respective rooms. Tony didn't even bother trying to wake the slumbering man in his arms, though. He knew he was down for the count.

Tony started to shift around, but froze when Steve whimpered at his jostled ribs. Pausing, the soldier waited until Steve settled again before gingerly standing, the blond man cradled in his arms.

"Goodnight, Anthony. I will see you on the morrow," Thor spoke in an uncharacteristically quiet voice before disappearing.

On his way out of the room, Bruce approached, speaking softly, "You'll stay with him tonight?"

"Yes, I'll keep an eye on him."

The doctor nodded in acknowledgment. "Call me if anything happens."

Promising he would, Tony bid the other two goodnight and slowly ascended the stairs, JARVIS lighting the way to the billionaire's bedroom. Steve only whining once as he was transferred to the bed. With the utmost care, Tony tucked his charge in before sliding onto the bed next to him.

Keeping a respectable distance from the other man, he watched and listened closely for any signs of discomfort. Watching the steady rise and fall of the other's injured chest his mind wandered back to the hospital.

Had they really almost kissed?

It seemed like some sort of distorted dream now, a heartbeat in time. Boy, did he ever want to kiss Steve Rogers. But, more than that, he wanted… everything.

Perhaps, though, he would start with dinner.

Steve huffed in his sleep and unconsciously wiggled closer, resting a head on Tony's shoulder. Smiling, Tony turned his face into the soft blond hair, knowing he was exactly where he needed to be.

-#-#-#-

"Steve," the gentle, yet persistent voice called.

He frowned; he didn't want to wake up. Wakefulness meant pain and the return of the interminable ache in his chest, an old hated friend.

"Come on, Steve," the tender voice called again.

Hoping his face conveyed his unhappiness at being back in the land of the living, Steve managed to open his crusty eyes and blearily glare up into the soft brown eyes of Tony Stark.

The solider felt bad at having to wake him, but the man needed food and medication.

"How're you feeling?" Tony asked, pushing Steve's hair back to feel his warm forehead. Bruce had said a mild fever was normal; his body would run hot while it was healing.

"Marginally more human," Steve answered dryly as he carefully sat up, braced arm in his lap.

Tony nodded. "Think you can manage a shower? I'll get some lunch started."

"Yes, sir," Steve answered with a mocking salute; a shower sounded phenomenal.

Dark eyes rolled as a lopsided grin pulled at his lips. "Hup two then, solider."

Tony waited until the billionaire had shuffled into the obscenely large bathroom before he headed down to the kitchen. On the way, though, he paused outside Clint's door and knocked, waiting long moments for a reply.

"JARVIS, is Clint with Bruce?" he asked as a smug smile crept across his face.

"I can neither confirm nor deny your very astute assumption, Captain Stark."

Grinning even wider, Tony backtracked to his room, riffling through his drawings until he found the one he was looking for. Grabbing it, he headed to Bruce's room and slipped the paper under the door with a chuckle.

Task completed, Tony made his way to the kitchen for real, humming happily as he began to pull ingredients from the fridge. As he moved to the counter, he paused to frown in thought – French toast, or omelet? After a moment, he shrugged. Why not both?

As he navigated the room with ease, the soldier's humming gave way to actual words, "_Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you_.'"

Dredging the bread in the batter, he put pieces in the fry pan and grabbed the spatula, "_Birds singing in the sycamore trees, dream a little dream of me_."

Steve Rogers paused just outside the kitchen and watched the man inside, heart hitching in his chest. Tony had a wonderful voice, deep and husky… He could listen to him all day, could watch him all day.

"_Say nighty-night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me_." The rich baritone carried as Tony slid what looked and smelled to be French toast onto a plate.

"_While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me_…" As Tony turned and spotted Steve in the doorway, the genius felt a slight pang of regret – Tony stopped singing.

Caught, Steve shuffled into the room. "Coffee?" he asked.

Tony nodded, making sure Steve was settled at the kitchen table before hurrying to get him a mug. Surprised, Steve watched as the dark-haired man poured a little milk into it, exactly the way he liked it.

"What would you like in your omelet?" he asked as he handed over the caffeine.

Blinking blue eyes, Steve stared up at him. "No French toast?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. We're having both."

Chuckling, the other man sipped his beverage. "Are you ever not hungry?"

Tony's crooked smile was offset by the solemn look in his eyes. "No, always hungry."

"Serum?"

"Serum," Tony agreed as he turned to cut up vegetables.

Steve watched Tony intently as he continued to putter about the kitchen. Tony was in sweats again, the black pants rucked up to his knees. The sleeves of his dark grey shirt were pushed to his elbows, the buttons undone at his throat. He looked so effortlessly handsome that Steve wasn't sure if he was smitten or just jealous.

"What other odd quirks does it present as?" Steve asked suddenly, wanting to know more about him – needing to know everything about Tony, the good and the bad.

"Does what present as?" Tony asked, glancing at him for a moment before turning back to the toast.

"The serum. Does it do anything else odd?"

Tony quirked a grin. "You mean aside from the constant appetite and sleeping marathons?"

Steve hummed in agreement, unable to keep a smile from twitching his lips.

Pausing, the soldier frowned in thought. "I can't get drunk," he said finally.

Steve sputtered on his coffee, "What?"

Nodding, Tony looked down at his cooking once more. "Metabolism moves too fast to get drunk. Same thing with painkillers, any medication at all really." Steve blinked as the weight of that statement settled on him, his eyes widening as he realized what that confession meant.

"You mean when you're hurt…" Steve trailed off in horror. If Tony were ever injured – an inevitability in their line of work – he would be alone in coping with the pain.

Steve's heart broke for the man; suddenly he needed to touch him, be near him. Heaving himself to his feet, Steve ignored his ribs and shuffled towards the other man, Tony turning to steady him when he got close.

"Easy," Cap mumbled, his smile slipping as he saw the solemn expression on Steve's face. "What's wrong? You in pain?" Concerned, he moved his hands to carefully cup the flushed face, gently gauging his fever.

The genius said nothing, instead settling his own hands over the ones framing his face, feeling the fresh scar marring the back of one.

"Tony," he breathed and tipped his head back, eyes slipping closed as the other took his cue and leaned in.

Suddenly a loud bellow had them springing apart, Tony blushing furiously and Steve moaning in pain.

"Oh, Steve," Tony chastised tenderly. As he led the injured man back to his seat, Clint burst into the kitchen, paper in hand.

"You!" he yelled pointing at the soldier.

"Me?" Tony questioned, helping Steve to settle at the table.

The archer was grinning madly, "Yes, you, this!" He held up the paper clutched in his hand. "This is awesome!"

Laughing, Tony bowed at the waist, "You're welcome."

Steve's eyes darted curiously between them, "I want to see."

Still grinning, Clint slid the paper across the table to the other blond, while Tony moved to the coffee pot. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Please," a new voice called as Bruce entered with a yawn, dark hair curling wildly about his head. The scientist joined the two at the table, pausing to kiss Clint on the cheek. Tony tried not to grin too widely at the tender moment, but felt his lips betray him anyway.

"I can feel your smugness from here," Clint commented dryly.

Tony turned, two mugs in hand, his expression wide-eyed and innocent. "Who?"

Steve ignored the banter and instead focused on the drawing before him. It was a stylized Hulk, blushing as he held out a flower in one big palm to an impish Hawkeye. It was beautiful work…Tony truly had a gift. So many people could draw, but so few artists could capture the depth and breadth of emotion that he could so effortlessly. Some may look down on comic artists, but Steve saw more truth and honesty in his work than any of the current big names in the art world.

A burst of happy laughter brought him back to the here and now. Blue eyes looked up to see Clint, one arm slung around the back of Bruce's chair, trading good-natured insults with the Cap. It was a homey, happy moment, one that Steve felt all the way to his shrapnel-riddled heart. He hid his smile in his coffee mug.

"Salutations," Thor said as he grandly entered the kitchen. Thor seemed to be perpetually enthusiastic and high energy; it made Steve tired just to watch him. The room chorused with replies of good morning, while Tony just waved his spatula.

"How fare your injuries, Steven?" the god asked, turning his attention to their injured teammate.

"Dandy," the billionaire replied answered with a lopsided smile.

"That is most excellent news," the longhaired blond replied happily. As he settled himself at the table, though, he spied the picture still sitting there. Curiously thick fingers tugged the drawing closer as Thor's handsome face split into a wide grin.

"Wondrous! Who is the talented artist?" he asked, looking up eagerly at Steve.

"Tony," he answered, amused.

Thor rounded on the solider, who was currently shuffling over with a heaping plate of French toast. "You have a gift, friend Anthony."

Shrugging modestly, the Cap tried to play it off as inconsequential.

But Clint echoed the sentiment, "You really do – your work is incredible."

"There is more?" Thor asked, already loading up his plate. "Have you rendered my likeness, Anthony?" he asked eagerly.

Tony placed the plate of omelets on the table as well. "Oh sure, lots."

The god gestured grandly with his fork, "Once we finish breaking our fast, you must show me."

-#-#-#-

Breakfast done and kitchen tided, the five men found themselves in the living room, Tony's sketchbooks spread across the coffee table.

Thor was both amazed and humbled by the pictures of himself. The portfolios contained everything from portraits in exacting detail, to fun little chibi figures, to…

"Oh my god…" Clint stuttered, eyes widening as he tugged free a sheet of creamy paper. Gray eyes wide, he stared at the drawing.

Tony hummed curiously as he looked up over his glasses, then started as he caught sight of the picture Clint held; Steve was just amazed to see a grown man blush so quickly. Tony made a frantic grab for the picture, but the assassin was quicker.

Laughing, Clint rolled away and came to rest at Bruce's feet, holding the drawing up for his lover to see.

"Oh my…" Bruce said, hazel eyes wide.

Groaning, Tony buried his head in his hands. "It's just a picture," he mumbled.

Curious, Steve leaned closer to Bruce to see what could possibly be so interesting... and his eyes just about fell out of his head.

The black and white sketch was done in what Steve would call anime style, featuring Peg, Maria Hill, and Natasha. But that's not what grabbed their attention – like many drawings in that genre, the ladies were very distinctive.

"I think Tasha may kill you if she sees this," Clint teased.

Steve snorted, "I would be more worried about Peg."

Tony moaned faintly, "It's just a drawing."

"Wishful thinking, Cap?" the archer asked, straight-faced.

Dark eyes looked up pleadingly. "Please don't tell them…"

They all laughed at the courageous, imposing Captain America, terrified by the thought of three women.

Thor, who'd been looking wide-eyed and amazed at the work, piped up, "Anthony, this is most astounding." He held up a picture featuring himself, cape swirling, hammer raised.

"Thanks, Thor," Tony said, wheezing as the god gave him a congratulatory smack on the back. Steve winced in sympathy; Tony was the only one who seemed to be able to withstand Thor's celebratory gestures.

Enthused over the sheer amount of work before him, Thor engaged the artist as the others continued to look over the books.

Bypassing the newer volumes, Steve spotted a worn leather-bound book beneath the others. Curiously he slipped it out and opened the cracked spine with anticipation. Expecting more of modern day New York, the Avengers, or even comic panels, the genius felt his breath hitch as a war-torn landscape unfolded before him.

Hesitantly he turned the fragile pages, realizing with growing heartbreak that this was the work Captain Stark had done during the war. There were pictures of vaguely familiar men who he instinctively recognized as the Commandos. Another showed a dark-haired man hunched over a table littered with parts of something, a lighter haired man at his side – Uncle Howard and his father. There was a woman, beautiful and strong, and Steve got the impression she was much like his Peggy.

And there were many more, so unlike the others scattered on the table. Steve could all but feel the emotions rolling off the page. Voices swirled around him, pointless noise as he plunged on. Callused fingers leafed on through the past before stalling on sketches he could tell were newer, but just as powerful.

A small figure stood staring upwards as a building towered overwhelmingly over him. In another a man huddled in an alleyway, hunched and worn as just outside the glittering city moved on.

Steve wasn't sure when his hand had begun to tremble. When he turned to the last page in the book, though, it took everything he had not to let the sob catching in his throat erupt. A broken, battered figure slumped over his shield amidst a ruined landscape. In the background, hazy and indistinct, he could make out somewhat familiar figures walking away – the Avengers.

"Steve?"

The voice calling his name finally penetrated his daze, and the billionaire looked up to find the others gazing at him in concern. Dazed, he focused on the worried dark eyes that regarded him so intently.

"Is it your ribs?"

Slowly the engineer stood, needing to get away. As fast as his bruised chest would allow, he walked to the elevators and slumped against the wall, the sketchbook still clutched tight in his hands.

In the living room, the others watched in varying states of disbelief.

"Was it something we said?" Clint asked, scratching his head. Bruce unconsciously rested a comforting hand on the blond.

"He looked… terrified," the scientist said softly.

Tony stood quickly. "I'll go see what's wrong," he assured them.

"Good man," Thor said, clapping Tony on the shoulder. Tony winced; he would have to have words with the god about these painfully affectionate tendencies.

Rubbing a sore shoulder, Tony gave them a wave and headed for the elevator, waiting until the doors closed before he let himself worry. Something about the look on Steve's face… he'd looked stricken. Tony couldn't fathom what it was that had happened, though. Things had seemed to be going ok. Then again, maybe Steve had been offended by one of his drawings; it wouldn't be the first time.

When the doors dinged open and Tony stepped off, the lab was quiet and dim. As he approached the door, he was mildly surprised that it opened without a request. Frowning, Tony stepped inside.

"Steve?" he called, searching intently, soon spotting a figure slumped over a workbench, bathed in a faint blue light.

The solider was by his side in an instant. "Steve, you ok? You took off rather quickly…" Tony trailed off as he finally got a look at his friend's solemn features. Without a word Steve slid the drawing towards him.

The solider looked down, puzzled. He recognized the picture, one he'd done not too long after the battle with Loki.

"This is a lost man," Steve said quietly. "A man who doesn't feel like he belongs…"

As Steve went on, understanding dawned. Tony was about to explain that while Steve was right, the drawing no longer reflected his feelings – but then suddenly Steve was there.

Clutching Tony's arm, Steve looked up at him searchingly. "You belong here, Tony." The Cap froze in shock as Steve pressed on, "I know it's hard, and may seem overwhelming… but you were meant to be here." Steve's hands gripped his arms more tightly as his expression melted into genuine emotion, worry, sincerity… heartbreak. Blue eyes were all fire and passion; they took Tony's breath away.

"The world needed Captain America, needs him still… and I need Tony Stark," Steve whispered as he finally closed the distance between them, meeting Tony's lips with his own. Their mouths crushed together, sloppy and haphazard. There was no finesse or grace, just raw passion and need – a desperate attempt to make Tony understand how much he meant to him.

Tony was sure he was dreaming.

He was not kissing Steve Rogers in his lab; it was something cooked up by his desperate mind. Even so, he wasn't about to kick a gift horse in the mouth. Automatically his arms pulled the slender form closer, big hands splaying across the narrow back as Tony tipped his head to mesh their lips together.

Neither was sure how long they stood there in the tight embrace, nor how long lips and tongues touched and explored one another. Minutes seemed to stretch like hours, but eventually they parted, flushed and panting faintly.

Steve suddenly felt weak, wobbling a moment before those strong arms tightened around him, steadying him. Tony held him close to his wide, warm chest as he gently rubbed Steve's back, and his voice rumbled softly in the silence.

"Those pictures were from months ago," he confessed, pressing a warm kiss to the other's temple. Steve smelled so good – the spicy cologne he wore, the underlying bite of metal and electricity were intoxicating.

Steve huffed a quite laugh, "Did I just embarrass myself?"

Tony gently slid two fingers under his chin, lifting it so their eyes met. "Have dinner with me," he said.

Steve didn't hesitate, "Yes."

Grinning, Tony dipped his head, melding their lips together once more.


	12. Part XII

Author's Note: Here we are next part! Bring on the fluff and feels finally the pay off and the romance was definitely a slow build. Also I lied there is actually 15 parts, I decided to break up the last chapter made the story flow better. So enjoy and I'll get the others up as soon as possible.

Thanks ravingbeauty for all your wonderful work and congrats!

That Has Such People

Part XII – **Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.**

"Why am I nervous? I'm not nervous," he mumbled even as he wrung callused hands together.

"Of course not, sir," JARVIS said.

Steve was too rattled to even snark back at his AI. Staring at himself in the mirror, he smoothed a hand over his dark red dress shirt. "Maybe I should try the blue again," he grumbled, wanting to kick his own ass for turning into a teenage girl.

It was his fifth outfit, and he still wasn't sold. Unfortunately Peg had not been helpful; his CEO had just told him in no uncertain terms to "man up." That gem had been followed by an order to "stop being a muppet." It had been very British, very unhelpful, and rather hurtful.

Fussing with the brace on his forearm, Steve worried his lower lip. He really shouldn't be so uptight about this. Sure, his track record with relationships wasn't great, and this was his first date with a man who made him believe in the impossible, and he may or may not be in love with him… but why worry?

"Who am I kidding?" he mumbled to himself. He was head over heels for Captain America.

"Sir, Captain Stark is outside your door."

Steve stiffened as sweat instantly broke out across his skin. Suddenly he wanted to run and hide in bed.

"Man up, Rogers," he ordered himself. As he crossed the room, Steve almost managed to convince himself he was ready for this – right up until he opened the door. It felt like he'd been punched in the arc reactor; all the air left his chest in a rush.

"Oh, god," Steve huffed, the words falling from his lips unintentionally.

Tony self-consciously smoothed a hand down the front of his blue dress shirt. "Too much?" he worried.

Steve vehemently shook his head. "No, no, not at all. You look… you look, wow…" he blurted inarticulately.

"Clint thought I could use a little help," Tony shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin. "You look good, too," the solider said as he held an arm out to Steve.

The genius was still trying to get his mind around the gorgeous man in front of him. Tony Stark had discovered 21st century clothing and it agreed with him. Dark denim accented what Steve believed to be one of his best features, and that shirt was oh so tight. For the first time in a long time Steve felt awkward and self-conscious in his own slender body.

Automatically Steve found himself taking the proffered arm and following the other man to the elevator. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was happening when, instead of pressing down, Tony hit the button for the top of the building. This _was_ Captain America, though, so Steve was game for anything.

Tony said nothing as they rose skyward, trying not to let his own nerves show. He wanted to make a good impression; he knew a first date was the most important. Resting a large hand lightly over Steve's, Tony gently led him onto the roof as the doors slid open.

Steve, who was growing more curious by the moment, followed after Tony, only to stumble in shock when he caught sight of the transformed poolside. In the cool evening air, white lights were strung around a small table set with covered trays and flickering candles.

Speechless, he turned to the tall brunette. "How? I mean…" the normally unflappable billionaire was at a complete loss. Tony had only asked him out this morning, and to have this… Steve had assumed they'd head to some fancy restaurant while trying to ignore the paparazzi that seemed to hound the Avengers' every move – Tony and Steve's in particular.

"Is this ok? I thought for a first date just the two of us would be better," he said hesitantly, turning to look at his date.

Steve just stared back into the earnest dark eyes for a moment. It was romantic, charming, sweet… and if it'd been anyone else it would have been sappy. But Tony made it perfect.

"It's perfect," he finally managed aloud, heart fluttering as Tony responded with a wide, sweet smile.

Happily Tony led him to the table, pulling out Steve's chair before settling across from him. "We have chicken, mixed veggies, and garlic potatoes," Tony listed off as he opened the covers with a flourish.

Steve grinned – all his favorites, which of course Tony knew. "How did you mange to pull this off?" he asked, still amazed by the scene.

Laughing, Tony poured them each a glass of wine, "I called in a favor."

Something in his tone made Steve think that perhaps there was more to that story, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. Right now he was just focused on not messing this up.

"Shall we toast?" Steve asked as he raised his glass.

"To beginnings," Tony said, voice husky and low.

Steve shivered as a bloom of sweet hope rose in his chest. "To beginnings," he repeated, clinking crystal and reassuring himself that he was not in fact blushing.

-#-#-#-

Clint tried to control his grin as he stepped into the lab and spotted his… lover? Boyfriend? Both, he hoped… hunched over a microscope. Without a word he sidled up behind Bruce and rested gentle hands on his surprisingly muscular shoulders.

"Hi, Clint," the scientist greeted, not the least bit surprised.

The assassin chuckled and leaned forward to kiss the sweet smelling curls. "How did you know it was me?" he asked, wondering if he should feel put out that he couldn't sneak up on the Doc.

"Your smell," Bruce answered absently as he adjusted the magnification.

"My smell?" Clint prompted as he began to gently massage the tight arm muscles.

"Mmhmm," Bruce hummed in agreement. "Dove soap, beeswax, and Tide… sometimes stale, but you haven't been in the vents today."

Clint blinked in shock. "How…" he trailed off faintly, utterly amazed.

Bruce, having finally caught up to the absentminded conversation, turned to Clint wide-eyed, face red as a tomato. "I'm so sorry, Clint. I…" he trailed off helplessly as he floundered for an explanation.

Chuckling, the archer reached out to cup a stubbled cheek in his hand. "You always had such a good sense of smell?" he asked.

Bruce looked away, "The other guy… sometimes we spill over into each other."

Nodding, Clint moved to trace a callused thumb over Bruce's cheekbone; it made a lot of sense. "You almost done for the night?" he asked softly as his thumb trailed lower to bitten and chapped lips.

Bruce felt his heart beat pick up, blood rushing, as his breath hitched.

"Yeah," Bruce whispered as that blond head dipped and lips softly, sweetly met his own. Bruce settled his hands on slim hips as he eagerly returned the gesture, kissing and nipping until they broke apart, both panting for breath.

Resting their foreheads together, Clint smirked, lips now pink and glossy. "Can I tempt you to bed?" he asked huskily.

"You finished helping Tony?" Bruce asked, already standing from his chair to press closer to Clint.

"Debt repaid," Clint replied as he wrapped a sinewy arm around Bruce's waist and dragged him toward the elevator.

As they stumbled in, Bruce kissed him again, all heat and passion now as the normally placid scientist pinned him to the wall with a low, grumbling growl. Clint moaned faintly as he wrapped himself around his lover. Burying his face in Bruce's warm neck, he didn't even notice as the doors slid close.

-#-#-#-

It felt like Steve had known him his whole life. It was cliché and sappy and ridiculous… and Steve just couldn't help it. They talked and laughed for hours, smiling at one another in the dim candlelight. Tony was easy to talk to – smart, charming, and brutally honest. He held nothing back, and Steve found it impossible to not return his honesty in equal measure.

Whether it was the wine or the company, the genius found himself giving voice to thoughts he thought he'd buried long ago – his time in Afghanistan, his fears as Iron Man, the palladium poisoning, and any number of failings that he seemed unable to keep inside. The words poured forth unceasingly and Steve was helpless to stop them.

Tony listened attentively, comfortingly holding Steve's hand in his own. He never once wavered, sitting there until the candles burned low and Steve's voice became hoarse and scratchy.

Sipping the last of his water, the billionaire felt the faintest touch of lips on the back of his hand. As he looked, up, Tony smiled, "Time to go inside."

Steve felt as though he was in a dream. The world was seemingly a blur of surreal lights and colors as they headed back to the elevator. Everything was fuzzy and out of focus except the man before him. Tony, looking so handsome, quirked his lips in a soft smile. Steve couldn't resist, wouldn't want to even if he were able.

As the elevator moved, Steve found himself swaying towards the super solider. Strong arms enfolded him, holding him close as their lips met sweetly. Steve could taste the wine they had shared, the sweetness of dessert, and the smoky subtle essence of tobacco. Moaning faintly, Steve pressed closer and the pair leaned against the mirrored wall as all else fell away.

An eternity later they were moving. Hands soothing and gentle, Tony steered them down the hall towards the doors of Steve's room.

As they paused outside the threshold, the blond couldn't help but marginally stiffen. Steve wanted this – wanted this in the worst way. But something in the back of his mind was balking. His life had been filled with one-night stands and failed connections. And whatever this was with Tony, he didn't want to screw it up like he had everything else in his life.

Tony knew something was wrong; he could feel the tension in the man in his arms. Gently he pulled back with a final tender kiss. "I had a nice time tonight," he said gently as he played with the soft hair at the nape of the other's neck.

"Me, too," Steve said, meaning it with all of his mechanical heart.

"Maybe you'd like to do it again?" Tony asked hopefully, whispering in the dimly lit hall, somehow worried that speaking any louder would break whatever spell they were under.

"Yes." Steve once more found the words slipping from his lips before he could think better of it. The grin Tony gave him in reply was so sweetly genuine it made his chest ache.

With one final kiss, Tony pulled away. "Goodnight, Steve," he said quietly, then turned and headed back down the hall, hands in his pockets.

Steve didn't move until Tony had disappeared into the elevator. Alone now, he let out a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes closed as something very near a sob threatened to erupt. Sinking to the ground, he buried his head in his hands. Why was this so hard?

"I love you," he whispered brokenly into the darkness.

-#-#-#-

Tony Stark lay smiling up at the ceiling in the darkness. Tonight had been wonderful, everything he'd imagined. It was a date that had been long in coming, he supposed self-deprecatingly.

"Managed to land my own date tonight, brother," he said aloud into the quiet dark, wondering just how hard Howard was laughing at him.

Finally closing his dark eyes, he hummed happily, words half-forming on his lips, "_Dream a little dream of me…_"

-#-#-#-

Steve woke abruptly, a scream on his lips, chest heaving and aching with a phantom pain. He could taste the dirty water once more, gritty and foul, and feel the burn of electricity across his chest. His shirt stuck to him, sweat-soaked and uncomfortable, as his blond hair matted to his head. Shuddering, he gasped for air as tears and sweat ran down his face.

A sudden crack of thunder outside had him all but jumping out of his skin. Sobbing brokenly, he scrubbed at his face.

"Sir, are you alright? Your heart rate is elevated." JARVIS asked, as concerned as an AI could be.

"No," Steve whispered, feeling lost and alone. He was back in Afghanistan again, and no one was coming.

He couldn't do it – not again.

Kicking the covers off, he staggered out of bed and into the hallway. The dim light of the arc reactor lit the way to the elevator, which took him directly to Tony's floor on JARVIS's command. He didn't even have the will power to sass his creation for its presumptions – especially when they were right on the money.

When the doors opened, he stumbled out and towards Tony's bedroom. Outside he could hear the water pelting the windows as the storm raged unabated. He didn't knock, and was unsurprised when the door easily swung open to reveal… an empty bed. His steps faltered abruptly. Where was Tony?

Panic began to set in as Steve stared intently at the empty bed, as if he could somehow summon the other man. "Tony," the name fell plaintive and desperate from his lips.

"What?" Suddenly a tousled head appeared on the other side of the bed, slumberous dark eyes blinking as the soldier tried to orient himself.

Steve almost sobbed with relief. "Tony!" he breathed as he rounded the bed. In a heartbeat he was in Tony's arms, clinging as tight as he possibly could, burying his face in the sleep-warmed neck of the other man.

Tony made a soft sound of understanding, automatically enfolding Steve in a tight embrace, cradling him close.

Steve closed his eyes tight and focused on the warmth of the other man's arms, the strong beat of his heart, and the steady rhythm of his breath.

Tony didn't move, didn't speak – just held the genius close, gently caressing his back as Steve slowly began to relax. They stayed that way for long moments, content in their closeness, until Steve broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, resting his forehead on a strong shoulder, hearing the scratch of his raw throat.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Tony returned gently.

A watery chuckle was Tony's reply as Steve slowly pulled away, the small space between them illuminated by his chest.

"Nightmares?" Tony asked hesitantly, hands still smoothing over warm skin.

Steve nodded slowly. "I guess talking about it tonight brought it all to the surface," he tried to explain.

Tony smoothed back sweat-matted hair, "We all have our demons."

"Except for Captain America," Steve tried to joke.

"Except for Captain America," Tony snorted in derision. "Tony Stark, however… he's a mess."

Steve Rogers blinked as his smile became a little more genuine. "Good, because I am, too."

They grinned shyly at one another, bathed in calm blue light from Steve's arc reactor. Finally the billionaire glanced around, realizing they were on the floor, while the pristine bed sat beside them, looking like it'd never been used.

"Why are we on the floor?" he mumbled, unaware he'd spoken aloud. He immediately felt Tony flinch at the question.

"Sorry," Tony apologized. As Steve looked to him curiously, brown eyes turned away, embarrassed.

"Beds were a luxury during the war… just got used to doing without," he explained softly, running a hand through already thoroughly mussed hair.

Steve nodded reassuringly, "No judgment here."

Tony looked back at him through thick lashes, a small and relieved smile quirking perfect lips. At the sight, Steve couldn't resist; he kissed him. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, all passion and unvoiced emotion, as Tony eagerly reciprocated.

The super solider was suddenly very aware he had a warm, pliant blond wiggling in his lap, and there was nothing but a bed sheet between them. He could feel his neck and chest heating by the second.

Steve pulled away panting and flushed, wide eyes looking down, "You're not wearing anything, are you?"

Tony got hotter. "No," he confirmed.

"Do you always sleep in the buff?" Steve couldn't help but ask, unable to keep himself from wiggling a little more.

Groaning, Tony settled big hands on Steve's hips, stilling his movements out of sheer self-preservation. "Yeah," he breathed.

Steve groaned aloud this time as the knowledge sent a thrill of pleasure down his spine. They were kissing again then – teeth, lips, and tongue all meshing and melding. Steve, unable to get enough of the other, began running his hands up and down the planes of powerful muscle.

Nimble fingers danced across smooth skin, pausing when they encountered a hard raised line of skin. Unconsciously he followed along it, trailing up to just under Tony's ribs. Skimming higher still, he felt a round puckered wound he knew could only be from a bullet. Steve frowned as he found still more scars.

Tony felt the lips against his slow, then stop all together. Concerned, he pulled back to look down at the pale, lean hand pressed to his chest. Tony reached up, laying his own hand over Steve's.

"Tony?" Steve asked hesitantly, and the solider knew he was asking without words.

Tony didn't hesitate; Steve had given so much of himself already. "I was shot three times by Hydra agents and left for dead in the Belgian forest." The hand froze, pressing hard for a moment before moving back to the long line on his side. "Shrapnel from a tank explosion."

The jagged line at his collarbone. "Bar fight in England. Got between Rhodes and some people who felt skin color dictates the metal of a man."

Steve felt his blood run cold; sometimes he forgot just how long Tony had slept and how many changes – for better or worse – had been wrought in society since then.

Steve wrapped slender arms around his neck and pressed close. "Why?" he found himself whispering, unsure just what he was asking. Why so much pain? Why did Tony do what he did? Why keep doing it?

Tony didn't seem to suffer from any such conflict. "My brother once told me it was because I had more bravery than common sense, Rhodes said it was because I was too stupid to know any better, and Doctor Erskine said it was because I was meant for great things."

Steve pulled back slightly and looked searchingly into his dark eyes.

"Truthfully, though," Tony continued, "I think it's because I forgot to read the fine print."

Steve stared at him in disbelief for almost a full minute before he laughed, loud and relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from him. Tony grinned widely, unable to help himself at the happy sound. Still chuckling softly, Steve sunk once more into the soldier's embrace, warm and content and suddenly beyond tired. He had run the emotional gamut tonight. Blue eyes blinked slowly, sluggish in their movements. His mind drifted as the quiet darkness called to him.

Tony knew the second Steve fell asleep, relaxing completely in his arms. Tony pressed a kiss to the ruffled blond hair before gently settling back onto the floor, Steve sprawled across his chest.

Outside the storm continued to rumble and rattle, but Tony couldn't remember a more beautiful night.

-#-#-#-

"Ok, who's coming now?" Clint asked, staring at his boyfriend from across the table.

Bruce groaned behind his paper. "I'm not doing it," he said flatly.

"Oh, come on. Please? Pretty please?"

The scientist made the mistake of peeking around the paper to look at his pouting archer. Sighing heavily, he listened to the slow steps shuffling towards them before scenting the air expertly. "Steve," he answered definitively as he turned back to his reading.

Intrigued, Clint stared at the doorway as the steps got closer; he all but cackled when a tousled blond head appeared. "No way!"

Bruce hid his smile.

"What's he smell like?" Clint asked eagerly as the inventor zombie stumbled past them to the coffee machine.

"Clint," he hissed disapprovingly.

"Come on, babe. He's not coherent until at least cup three."

Rolling hazel eyes, the doctor groaned, more for show than anything. "Like coffee, Old Spice, and metal… sometimes Scotch."

Clint looked at him in surprise. "Really? Old Spice? Not like some high end, three thousand dollar a bottle stuff?"

Bruce grinned rather smugly. "It's not Steve's usual brand; it's Tony's." Hazel eyes peeked over the top of his paper, more than pleased by the shocked expression on his lover's face.

The blond laughed heartily, "Get some, Cap."

"What's so funny?" Steve mumbled as he joined them at the table.

Clint was still grinning as he answered, "Bruce has crazy super smelling powers."

Steve perked up at that. "What? Really?"

Groaning, the scientist shook his head. "It's not a superpower, it's just a side effect of my condition."

Steve was looking at Bruce with his head cocked, more awake now that he was interested. "So… what? You can tell who's coming just by the way they smell?"

The dark haired man was about to reply when they heard voices down the hall and a booming laugh they all knew belonged to Thor. "Most invigorating, Anthony," the god was saying.

Steve automatically looked towards Tony as he entered the kitchen, looking sweaty and oh so good this morning – even with the black eye he was sporting.

"Good fight," Tony returned with a grin as he headed for the fridge.

Barely restraining himself from sighing like a lovesick schoolgirl, Steve was unable to take his eyes off the man as he moved around the room.

"So what about Thor?" Clint asked, drawing Steve's attention back to the rather interesting conversation they'd been having.

The god perked up as he heard his name, "Yes?"

Bruce looked pained. "Do I have to?"

Clint stared at him with puppy dog eyes, his unbelievably clear grey eyes wide and pleading.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Bruce leaned back in his chair, paper forgotten, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Electricity mostly. And leather… sometimes sugar."

"Electricity has a smell?" Steve asked, intrigued despite himself.

"Sure," Bruce shrugged. "Just like the way you smell of metal. "

Thor looked confused, while Tony watched the proceedings from across the kitchen, a small smile on his lips.

"What goes here, doctor?" Thor asked, looking between the men at the table.

"Bruce is using his superpowers," Steve teased with a smirk.

The big blond looked suitably impressed.

"What about Tony?" Steve asked.

The solider spoke up from across the kitchen. "I know that one – smoke mostly, nice cologne, and paper." When they all stared at him, shocked, Tony just grinned wider. "Hulk told me."

Blinking, Bruce laughed as Clint and Steve grinned as well.

Thor just nodded sagely, "Warrior Hulk is very wise."

That earned another round of laughter. Still chuckling, Steve glanced over at Tony, only to see the man wink at him.

Steve Rogers would swear he didn't blush.


	13. Part XIII

Author's Note: Here we are, only two more parts to go. I think is my favorite chapter. The picture I saw in my head was so clear and perfect, and I hope I capture it here for you. I've started another one that I hope will be a one shot, because I have a prompt that I'm eager to tackle. So look for more from me in the near future. Thanks and enjoy!

Thank you ravingbeauty, you are a fantastic beta, all your work makes me look so good.

That Has Such People

Part XIII – **Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown**

He was happy.

Genuinely happy.

Almost sickeningly so.

It all seemed almost surreal, like a dream he was living, a fragile perfect moment in time, and at any moment he was going to wake alone once more.

When Steve had those moments he would seek Tony out and find him drawing, or playing games with Clint and Thor, or watching movies and arguing books with Bruce.

Wherever it was, though, Tony would be there, larger than life, with a ready smile and open arms. Steve felt his breath hitch unconsciously as his arc reactor whirred a little harder in chest. It'd only been a week – a week – and he was completely and utterly besotted, using every excuse he could think of to spend time with him.

They made excursions into the city to do touristy things, went out for meals, even coffee. They watched movies and made out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, still going no further than touching and caressing above the belt. Not that Steve minded – as long as Tony was there at night. Just as he had been, ever since that night he'd kissed him.

Steve was sometimes frightened of the depth of feeling he had for the man. It was almost like standing on the precipice of something dark and unknown, being terrified to make that leap of faith. Only Tony was there – and the genius knew in his heart of hearts that he would catch him.

Sighing, the blond stared unseeing at the holo screens before him, wondering if he could persuade Tony to go out to dinner… maybe cuddle in front of a movie. Biting his lip, he didn't bother to hide his grin; he continued to plan and daydream, only to be interrupted by JARVIS.

"Miss Carter is on the phone, sir."

Blinking, Steve puffed a breath out and waited a moment, hoping Peggy would cancel the call. Finally, resigned, he called out, "Put her through, J."

And in the same breath, "Hello, Peg."

"Hello Steven, I have Amanda with me. I'm putting you on speaker."

Steve bit back a groan.

"Hello, Mr. Rogers," Amanda greeted briskly.

"Morning," he returned politely, wondering what kind of trouble was coming his way. Nothing good could possibly come from this call.

"Steven, we want to confirm your attendance for tonight. We also need to know if you're bringing a date or not."

"And I am here to veto said date choice and suggest a better one," Amanda finished.

Steve blinked, mouth working. Date choice?

"Ummm," he managed unintelligently.

"Steven…" Peggy began, tone already disappointed and stern. "Did you forget tonight is the Rogers-Stark Annual Charity Gala?"

This time he was unable to stifle his groan, "That's tonight?"

The CEO of RSI let out a long-suffering sigh, "Yes, that is tonight."

"Don't suppose I could just say I was sick?" he ventured. He hated those stupid functions more than anything. A whole night spent pretending to care about lining already-rich pockets – it was sickening… and unfortunately a necessary evil in his life.

The very pregnant pause from the other end was answer enough.

Massaging his temples, he sighed. "Fine, and as for the date…" he paused, mind immediately going to Tony. Only he hesitated…

Asking Tony meant a wealth of things. He wanted to, more than anything, but it would mean going public. Steve couldn't bear to bring that kind of shit storm down on Tony. It was selfish on his part, but he would do anything he could to protect him.

"Steven?" Peggy prompted softly, and he realized they were still waiting on him.

"No one, no date," he said softly, feeling the pain acutely.

Peggy was silent a moment. "Are you sure, Steven?" her voice seemed melancholy.

"Yeah, Peg. I am."

"Will that be all, Mr. Rogers?" she asked primly, accented voice lilting pleasantly.

"Yes, Miss Carter."

When the line went dead Steve heaved a shuddering sigh, closing his blue eyes tightly, and buried his head in his arms. Sometimes he wished he wasn't who he was, that he didn't own a multibillion-dollar corporation, that the media wasn't just waiting for him to mess up.

Looking up, he stared across the room at his suit and realized one simple truth. They were who they were – even Tony wouldn't give up the serum and he wouldn't trade being Iron Man for anything.

For better or worse, they would always be that.

-#-#-#-

"How the hell are you even good at this?" Clint yelled, leaning across him, eyes glued to the TV as his fingers madly smashed at buttons. Tony laughed, fingers moving just as rapidly over the plastic controller. On the screen his player crept forward, gun at the ready.

"Naturally gifted," Tony returned with a grunt as he shot what Clint had explained was a zombie in the head.

"Fuck that noise, you have to be cheating."

Chuckling grimly, Tony turned in a tight circle, firing as he went, the horde of undead falling before him.

"A man from the 1940s is beating you at _Call of Duty_," Bruce teased from behind his bundle of papers.

"Shush you," the archer said, never looking away.

Amused, Tony easily ran circles around Clint's character. In the middle of moving through an overrun building, though, he felt his phone vibrating. The Cap didn't even pause. Switching the controller to one hand, he pulled out his phone and hit the talk button.

"Stark," he answered.

"Anthony?"

Tony winced. Only two people used his given name like that and one was currently in the kitchen making an obscene amount of pop tarts. That left…

"Peggy, what can I do for you?"

There was a slight hesitation on the other end before she continued speaking, "I have a favor to ask of you, Tony."

It grabbed his attention instantly – not so much what she said, but the way she said it. "Of course," he said, game forgotten as he leaned forward intently to listen, ignoring Clint's wails of anguish as the dead overran them.

-#-#-#-

Steve was not upset.

Or at least that's what he was trying to convince himself as the limo weaved through the busy New York night. Absently adjusting the cuffs of his tux, he sighed. Who the hell was he kidding? He was upset.

He wanted Tony here with him, at his side, where he belonged. This night was just as much about the Stark legacy as it was his. Tony had every right to be here. The billionaire winced; it had been completely selfish on his part not to invite him, date or not. But this thing between them was so new, so fragile… He hesitated to do anything that could potentially ruin it.

So here he sat alone, in this ostentatious limo, once more proving to himself and the world just what a selfish bastard he was. He stared listlessly at the scotch in his hand, suddenly not the least bit interested in the drink. His mind churning and worried, wondering where Tony was at that moment. When he'd left the Tower, Tony hadn't even been home.

"_Not here?" he repeated, looking at Clint blankly. _

"_Sorry, man. He got a call and left a while ago," the archer offered. _

"_A call?" Steve asked, worried._

_Bruce, who was sitting nearby, waved a hand, "Not that kind of a call – a personal one." _

_Somehow that just made it worse. Straightening unconsciously, Steve felt his mask slide once more into place, comforting and familiar. "Well don't wait up, kids. Big do tonight." _

"_Have fun, Steven," Thor said, eyes glued to the TV as he worked his way through the stack of pop tarts at his side. _

_With a practiced smile and wave, Steve was gone. _

"Here, sir," the driver said softly, bringing Steve back to the here and now. Clearing his throat briskly, he nodded his understanding.

"Thanks," he muttered before putting that plastic smile in place and stepping out of the car and onto the red carpet.

The flashes of cameras were blinding, the screams and cries pointless noise. Coolly he buttoned his jacket and waved to the crowd with a devil-may-care grin. The piercing shriek of women rattled his head harshly. Gritting his teeth, he maintained a cool smile as paparazzi descended on him, peppering him with questions – everything from his thoughts on the latest Avengers fight, to who he was wearing tonight.

Flippantly he half-answered, expertly sidestepping uncomfortable issues. He thought he'd been doing rather well, too, right up until one dolled-up woman asked the one question he'd been dreading.

"Where is your date tonight, Mr. Rogers?"

Internally he winced, petulantly wanting to lash out at the women. What the hell did it matter if he had a date or not? Tamping down his anger, he prepared himself to deliver his usual line about being solo and loving it, when suddenly he felt a large, warm hand on his back and a husky, familiar voice spoke.

"Right here, sorry for being late."

Steve felt his spine stiffen in utter shock. What the hell was Tony doing here? Slowly he turned to face the man, and any comment he may have had died on his lips as he got a good look at his "date." The world fell away as they faced one another.

Tony was wearing his dress uniform, circa 1945. Everything meticulously pressed, buttons and medals gleaming, cap perched jauntily on dark locks. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a period film.

"You're here," Steve said breathily, sure this was some sort of hallucination cooked up by his desperate imagination.

"Yes, I'm here," Tony confirmed softly.

The world suddenly returned with a vengeance; the media whipped into a frenzy as people began to scream impossibly louder.

Steve swallowed thickly. "You've done it now," he managed, blue eyes glancing at the reporters, who were still shoving microphones and cameras in their faces.

Tony swayed marginally closer, tilting his cap back as he leaned in. "Not yet, I haven't," he replied moments before pressing his lips against Steve's.

The roar was deafening, but Steve Rogers, billionaire, philanthropist, genius, man of the future… didn't give a flying fuck.

-#-#-#-

Halfway across the city, three superheroes cheered and applauded as they watched the live feed from the Annual Gala; Clint catcalled.

"What's all the commotion?" a new voice asked as Natasha wandered in.

Clint shot her a grin over the couch, "Welcome back."

Thor and Bruce echoed the sentiment as the only female member of the team perched on the couch arm, eyes directed towards the screen. An anchor in a fancy dress was looking at the camera excitedly as the words "_Avengers in love," _scrolled by below her.

Natasha raised an eyebrow as the camera moved back to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, who were waving to the people. Tony had an arm wrapped around Steve as the crowed very vocally proclaimed their support.

The smallest of smiles twitched the assassin's lips, "Guess I missed some things." She glanced over as Bruce leaned into Clint. "A lot, it would seem."

Thor gestured grandly, "Come, sister in arms. I shall tell you the tale of the love our brethren have forged."

-#-#-#-

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked quietly, eyes darting to see if anyone was within hearing distance.

"I think the real question is why you didn't ask me to come," Tony returned, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Steve looked down and away, "I didn't want… I wasn't sure…" He sighed, unable to voice his own confusion.

"Wasn't sure what?" Tony prompted just as softly.

"That you were ready for… all this," he gestured around them. Tony would have to be blind to miss the looks they were getting. They ranged from rabid interest to morbid fascination to outright disgust.

"For what? Hate? Anger? Fear?" he asked amused.

Steve stared at him a long moment before he sighed, "Yes, I just didn't want to make you do something you were uncomfortable with."

Smiling warmly, Tony leaned in close, "I think I told you once before – no one can make Captain America do what he doesn't want to."

Steve closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the broad shoulder for a heartbeat, "Thank you for being here."

Tony kissed his temple tenderly, "Always."

The sudden warmth that bloomed in his chest at that moment was staggering. With a simple word, given so freely, Steve's heart grew heavy with the weight of the sentiment.

"Come on, I think I need to fleece some business men into giving to the Wounded Warriors Foundation." Tony said as he turned, and Steve finally found his smile.

"You're absolutely right. And if anyone can shame them into it, it's Captain America."

Laughing the pair moved into the crowd proper, both men looking more ready to go to battle.

For the first time in he didn't know how long, Steve was actually enjoying himself. The faces around him were familiar in the sense that he knew who were they were – investors, big money, business people… and yet Tony Stark was taking them to the cleaners. He was actually a little in awe as he watched the man work.

With a smile and well-directed comment, he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. The ladies tittered when he smiled charmingly. And the men… well, who could ever say no to Captain America?

"You've done this before," Steve commented when they had a moment to themselves. Tony sipped a Coca Cola as Steve swirled his Scotch.

Chuckling, the Cap gave him a small salute, "Of course – sold war bonds all over."

Steve grinned at his companion, amused, only half listening as the band picked up again to begin another set. Tony, however, straightened, eyes wide and surprised.

Steve glanced around, "What? What is it?"

Tony wasn't looking at him, his eyes distant and far away, "This song…"

Steve strained to hear, unable to over the din of the partygoers. Suddenly Tony turned to him. Setting their drinks aside, he tenderly grabbed Steve's hand, "Dance with me."

Stunned, the blond allowed himself to be dragged for a moment before he balked, digging in his heels. "No, no way," he hissed, trying to pull away, twisting within the powerful grip.

Tony paused, "Why?"

Steve was suddenly beyond embarrassed as he looked anywhere but those earnest dark eyes. He mumbled quietly at his feet, feeling his cheeks heat.

"Sorry?" Tony tried again, as even his enhanced hearing failed to pick up the whispered confession.

Clearing his throat, his blue eyes darting ceaselessly, Steve finally confessed. "I don't know how to dance."

Tony stared at him, a million questions chasing through his head. Instead of asking them, though, he settled for smiling and gripping Steve's hand a little tighter. "That's just because you've never had the right partner."

The blond man felt his jaw work, unable to come up with any excuse as Tony yanked him through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Expertly the man in uniform turned him and Steve blinked as he settled easily into the strong arms.

"It's easy, I'll lead you," he murmured as he moved and Steve had no choice but to follow. The genius stepped on his toes a couple of times, but Tony just grinned and kept them moving, humming softly, and Steve realized where he'd heard this song before.

"_Stars fade but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss…" _

Steve smiled softly, "How did you learn to dance so well?"

Tony guided them around the floor, cutting a striking figure in his uniform under the dim lights. Steve felt a pang of jealously cut through him; how many women in small, smoke-filled halls had been here, held so tenderly?

"Howard said every man should know how to dance," Tony said confidently. "He also said every man should know some poetry and play an instrument." He made a face, "I hated the piano."

Steve laughed as the song ended with a flourish. Tony didn't release him, though; he remained perfectly poised, waiting for the next song to begin.

"What about the poetry?" Steve asked, unable to help himself.

Tony smiled as the music started up and he swept them off again, "I always preferred the words of the Bard myself."

Steve smiled, wide and genuine. In all his years attending these horrible things he'd never danced once, yet here with Tony… he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

The Cap looked down at the blond man as Steve rested against him comfortably. Warmth flooded through him and he idly wondered how he'd managed to get so lucky. His mother had once told him that the Lord worked in mysterious ways. After meeting Erskine, being frozen for over half a century, and finally meeting Steve… he figured that was probably true.

"You look like you're thinking awfully hard about something," Steve said softly as he followed him across the floor.

Tony hummed in agreement, "I guess I was."

As the music stopped again, Steve looked up into the soldier's dark eyes. "What about?"

"That some things in life really are worth waiting for," Tony answered honestly.

Steve felt his heart beat harder as emotions welled up, still strangely new to him.

"Think we can sneak out of here?" the blond asked breathlessly.

As he gripped Steve's hand tightly, Tony's smile was filled with all sorts of promises, "Like to see someone try and stop me."


	14. Part XIV

Author's Note: Still here! Promise we will get this done, only one chapter to go, and we can put this one to bed. Finally have a warning!

WARNING EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Many thanks to my readers, for all the support and to my beta ravingbeauty you do wonderful work. Enjoy!

That Had Such People

Part XIV – **Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart the courage to make love known?**

Bright eyed and flushed, Steve allowed himself to be tugged through the throng of people and hurried to keep up with Tony's long-legged stride. True to Tony's prediction, no one dared to stop Captain America.

Steve was barely able to catch his breath as they spilled into the back of the waiting limo. Gasping and laughing, they looked at one another, tension thick between them. Something was different tonight.

Steve felt giddy and lightheaded, like he was drunk, though he'd only had one drink. Irresistibly, irrevocably drawn in, he leaned close, blue eyes flicking from perfect lips to dark eyes and back. Tony, however, was the one who closed the distance, their lips meeting somewhere in the middle. Dark stubble rasped against his own smooth face as a broad hand settled warmly against his lower back, pulling him close. Steve went willingly, settling himself in Tony's lap as he deepened the kiss.

As Tony pulled him closer still, they embraced passionately, lips pressed tightly together. Steve moved nimble fingers to unbutton Tony's jacket, but he hesitated a moment, waiting for permission. He felt the brunet's lips quirk underneath his as Tony's hands moved to Steve's clothing to reciprocate.

Finished wrestling with the buttons, they were tugging shirts out of pants when the limo reached the Tower. When the driver awkwardly cleared his throat, Steve leveled a cool glare at him, while Tony tried to quell the blush creeping up his neck.

Calmly Steve stepped out of the limo, fingers laced with Tony's as they headed for the elevators. Neither said a word until the doors closed and they were headed for Steve's penthouse.

"Where were we?" the blond murmured as he reached out to grab Tony by the lapels of his unbuttoned coat. With surprising strength he pulled the bigger man close and crushed their lips together. The solider went willingly.

Seconds later the doors dinged open and the pair staggered out, never breaking contact. The lights came up dimly as they stumbled in, their clothing suddenly an unwelcome obstacle. Shoes were toed off as eager hands shoved jackets off shoulders, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. Dress shirts followed, Tony shrugging out of his suspenders as they steered towards the stairs. Breathlessly they parted, chests heaving as they stared at one another, both in thin undershirts and pants.

It was on the tip of Steve's tongue to suggest they head for the bedroom when suddenly he was scooped into powerful arms as the super soldier took the steps two at a time. Automatically he wrapped his arms around Tony's strong shoulders, secretly pleased by the manhandling. Hiding his grin, Steve kissed and nipped at Tony's neck, feeling the man shudder.

In an instant they were in the large bedroom, and Steve was on the bed with Tony crawling over him, predatory and eager. When the genius tugged at Tony's shirt, the solider pulled it off, tossing the fabric aside.

As Steve's hands fell to Tony's hips, he took the hint and shed his pants, rolling off Steve for a moment to tug off his bothersome socks. Naked now, save for the red boxer briefs he wore, the solider rolled back as Steve tossed aside his own pants. When Tony reached for the hem of Steve's white shirt, though, another pair of hands settled nervously over his.

"I, umm…" Steve started, settling a hand over his arc reactor self-consciously.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked, patiently waiting as the other man collected himself. Calmly and tenderly Tony smiled at him in the dim light of the bedroom. And slowly Tony picked up one slender hand and guided it to settle on the thick scar marring his side.

Steve felt the rough tissue, understanding what Tony was trying to tell him without words. Haltingly Steve reached for the hem of his shirt; as he pulled it off with a shaky breath, his light – now undimmed – illuminated the space between them.

Tony reached out gently, tenderly tracing the edge of the arc reactor, where skin and metal met. Steve shuddered at the touch, biting his lip. Finally, Tony pressed one hand over the light, obscuring its warm glow completely.

"Beautiful," Tony breathed as he leaned in to kiss Steve once more.

Soon worry over his body was the farthest thing from Steve's mind; all he could think about was the man over him, around him, pressing him into the bed.

Tony was moving on instinct now, having already outstripped his previous experience by miles. He'd done his research, as any good tactician would, but theory and practice were two very different things. And when lean arms wrapped around him and pale legs encircled his waist as Steve arched into him… all Tony's carefully laid plans flew out the window.

As Tony ground back, their aching erections rubbed tantalizingly together, still frustratingly clothed. But the solider was in no hurry, even as they kissed and rocked together, pressed tight enough for Steve's metal ring to dig into his chest.

It was long moments before Steve dropped his hands to the elastic waistband of Tony's briefs. The taller man groaned faintly into the kiss as he felt the material snag on his erection. Pulling back slightly, Tony braced his hands on either side of Steve's head, looking down at flushed man below him. Where Tony was all bulk and muscle, Steve was slender and defined. At the sight of his pale skin and the ethereal in the glow of his light, the soldier's breath caught in his throat… Steve was gorgeous.

"Ok?" Steve asked softly the other paused.

"Yes," he returned without hesitation, lifting his hips and allowing Steve to pull his underwear off completely.

Hiding his blush, Tony moved to return the favor and Steve cooperated eagerly, having no qualms about his nudity. Completely naked now, Tony hesitated, unsure where to begin. Sensing his uncertainty, Steve took charge. Flipping them easily, he settled astride strong thighs.

"Just relax, I've got you," Steve said gently. Leaning in, he kissed and nipped already swollen lips before working his way down the strong throat, lavishing attention on old wounds and thick planes of muscles.

Tony tried to keep still, hands clenching and twisting in the sheets as Steve seemed to find every sensitive spot on his body. Twitching and gasping, he couldn't help the little noises of pleasure that fell from his lips.

Steve was enthralled; Tony was so wonderfully responsive – he seemed to love being touched. Emboldened by his control of such a powerful person, Steve moved lower, lapping a line along his abdomen, nosing down the trail of dark hair that led to his ultimate goal. Teasingly Steve bypassed the very noticeable erection, instead kissing muscular thighs, fascinated by every twitch and spasm of muscle under the skin.

"Steve!" the soldier gasped, unintentionally thrusting his hips upward, desperate for some sort of friction.

Huffing a laugh, the genius sent Tony a wicked grin and leaned close once more, puffing a breath across his straining erection. As the man beneath him jerked, chest heaving, Steve finally relented. He licked Tony from root to tip before swallowing as much of him as he could; Tony was not a small man. Steve was half-curious if he was enhanced by the serum or just naturally gifted – whatever it was, though, he was damn happy for it.

Tony felt as if he was coming out of his skin. He was lightheaded, his body taut. Fascinated, he watched as Steve worked over him, lips stretched obscenely by his girth. Instinctively he reached out, wanting to bury his fingers in the blond hair, but hesitated, unsure.

Steve suddenly pulled back with a wet pop. With lips swollen and red, he shot Tony a devilish smirk. Grabbing one of the soldier's hands, Steve encouragingly guided it to settle on his head before returning to his ministrations.

Instinctively threading his fingers through the soft, short locks, Tony thrust shallowly upwards, moans and groans spilling from his lips. "Steve," he gasped, grip tightening before he consciously eased off, mindful of his strength.

The solider had never experienced anything like it; awkward fumbling with paid ladies didn't even come close. These sensations were too new and overwhelming. A familiar tightness settled in his abdomen, had him gasping, biting his lip hard.

Steve took as much as he could, sucking hard, looking up at the face of his lover; Tony was gorgeous in his passion.

"Steve, I -" Tony's hands tightened as he tried to warn Steve he was getting perilously close.

He tried to pull his lover away, but Steve just hummed in acknowledgment and refused to budge.

A low groan rumbled through Tony's chest and he bit down on his lip, tasting blood as he came hard in Steve's mouth.

The genius eagerly swallowed as the hot, bitter fluid splashed down his throat. Humming appreciatively, he gave his new lover a few teasing laps before looking up at the flushed, panting man. Dark, hooded eyes gazed back as Tony tried to catch his breath, and the smaller man prowled back up the powerful body.

"Steve," Tony breathed as his hands settled on slender hips, pulling the blond close.

Steve frowned as he spotted the blood dotting Tony's lips. "Tony," he said, gently leaning in to kiss the bitten lips. Tony eagerly reciprocated as he tasted himself on the lips of the other and felt his flagging erection begin to stir already.

Steve felt it too and pulled back, wide eyed and surprised. "Really?"

Tony chuckled and shrugged his wide shoulders, but was unable to help the flush across his chest and neck. When he'd first changed it almost felt like he was going through puberty all over again; it'd been downright embarrassing, especially in those godforsaken tights. Now, though, he wasn't sure if it was the serum or Steve.

"Yeah," he gasped as Steve rolled his own weeping erection against him. Tony moved his hands up toned hips, tracing across the sleek back, marveling at the strength in that small frame. His suit was so powerful, seemingly indestructible, yet Steve himself was so fragile… A surge of protectiveness shot through Tony as his grip tightened. He rolled his hips again, pressing Steve close.

"Tony, I want you," Steve whispered, biting his ear, leisurely moving his hips, sliding against the once more rock hard super solider.

"Yes," Tony hissed, hands automatically moving to knead Steve's ass, trying in vain to recall the videos he'd watched.

The genius could tell Tony was inexperienced; his reactions were too honest, hesitant, and sweetly adorable. Every careful touch and unsure movement only made Steve want him more. He wanted to show him everything, give him everything… and he would. He vowed he would. Tonight, though, tonight was for them alone.

"There's lube and condoms in the bedside drawer… leave it up to you, but I'm clean," Steve murmured softly, kissing and sucking dark hickies onto skin he knew would heal far too soon.

Tony was reaching for the drawer and paused. "Clean?" he asked, confused.

Amused, Steve cocked his head, "What did you call it in your day? The clap?"

Tony blinked at him, blushing. "Right," he sputtered, a laugh bubbling up as he pulled Steve close, kissing him harsh and quick. "I can't get anything," he grinned, kissing him again before reaching for the drawer.

"Not that it's a worry," he mumbled more to himself than Steve.

The blond hid his wide smile against his neck, suspicions confirmed.

Lube in hand, Tony opened it curiously, squirting some onto his fingers and rubbing them together experimentally, feeling the silky texture. Steve moved to kiss his way up to Tony's ear again.

"Touch me," he urged, raising his ass in the air so the big man couldn't mistake what he was asking.

Tony eagerly brought large, thick digits to press gently against him, massaging the tight ring of muscle carefully. Humming encouragement, Steve pressed back against the fingers. He nudged Tony's chin, kissing him deeply as Tony pressed a single finger inside him, slowly and with infinite care. He was incredibly tight and warm, and Tony gently stretched and loosened him as they kissed and caressed.

Steve tried to relax, arching his back as a second thick finger slid inside him, and moaned at the sensation, pre-cum dribbling from his painfully hard member. He rutted against hard abs as questing fingers suddenly, unintentionally, brushed that sweet spot; Steve gasped, back arching as a fission of pleasure raced down his spine.

"Tony!"

Encouraged by the reaction, the soldier curled his fingers, brushing the spot again and again. Steve writhed in his lap, mind turning to mush as those thick fingers caressed him. Feeling confident, Tony worked a third finger inside, stretching the man further.

The billionaire was falling apart; he wanted… needed Tony desperately. Arching into the fingers, he hurriedly reached for the lube and squeezed some onto his hands before eagerly coating Tony. With one final brush, Tony withdrew his fingers as Steve shifted over top of him. Fascinated, he watched as the blond man slowly, carefully lowered himself onto his thick erection.

Steve gasped as he slid inch by inch down, the burning sting intense for a second before he relaxed and sunk down all the way.

Tony was biting his lip again, trying not to move, fascinated by the pleasured expression on the blond's face.

Pausing to let his body adjust to the thick intrusion, Steve shuddered as Tony shifted a little, a noise close to a whimper bubbling up his throat. Steve moaned and Tony froze.

"Sorry," the big man mumbled, strained. The blond looked down at the man beneath him, the muscles in his neck corded as he strained to be still. Steve wanted to moan again at the sight – all that power, and he knew Tony would be nothing but gentle with him.

Shifting, Steve moved again, setting up a slow rhythm, encouraging Tony to meet him with little sounds of pleasure. His lover picked up on his queues, rolling his hips upward, shifting and changing the angle until…

"Oh, god!" Steve cried and Tony grinned.

Picking up the pace, Steve braced his hands on the wide chest as he rode Tony.

Steve felt so good, so tight, so hot, and god, it was amazing. Grunting, he tightened his grip on the slim hips then moved, flipping them without falling out. Surprised and utterly turned on, Steve looked up at the dark eyes and flushed cheeks as he lifted pale thighs to wrap around his waist. Steve hooked his ankles behind the broad back.

"Yes, Tony," he hissed as the angle changed and the man hit his sweet spot dead on.

Grinning, Tony set a hard, but tender pace as they rocked together. The air thick with the sounds of slick sex, moans and groans spilled from kiss-bruised lips as Steve gasped and pleaded, encouraged, and demanded, more and faster.

Obliging, Tony did just that as he pounded him into the mattress with single-minded determination.

Steve couldn't seem to catch his breath; Tony was above him, filling him, pressing down on him. His senses were on overload, body taut as he teetered on the edge, every fiber of his body demanding release, his overly sensitive member rubbing against the hard planes of Tony's abdomen. Whimpering, he arched as one more direct hit had him falling, the tension suddenly releasing with an almost audible crack as he spilled hotly between them.

Tony felt Steve tighten impossibly around him, hot, slick, and amazing. Limbs tightened as the blond rode out his climax, murmuring a mile a minute in Tony's ear as the big man kept up his pace. His hips began to move erratically, stuttering as Steve bit the lobe of his ear and whispered, "Let go."

Shuddering, he thrust deeply once more before he was coming, his vision graying around the edges. Carefully bracing his arms so he wouldn't crush the man beneath him, Tony dropped his head against Steve's neck, panting as he floated in a pleasant haze. Steve gently caressed his back and arms while they both came down from their high.

Long silent moments passed before slowly, carefully, Tony rolled away, withdrawing tenderly, not missing the wince of pain from his lover.

"Ok?" he asked.

Steve found a crooked grin, "Fine, Tony. It's good… sore, but a good sore."

Nodding, Tony leaned in to kiss him gently before he shimmied off the bed. Steve followed him with his eyes, lazily watching as the muscular body flexed and moved, disappearing into the bathroom. Blue eyes closed and Steve felt a smile stretch his lips, feeling utterly languid and replete.

He must have drifted off because suddenly those strong hands were back and a warm washcloth was wiping him off lovingly. Humming, he tried to open his eyes, but they felt too heavy; he was so warm, and those hands on him felt so wonderful.

After a few moments Tony's touch was gone and Steve managed to crack his eyes, huffing in agitation. He didn't want him gone – he wanted him in bed with him.

A heartbeat later the bed dipped and the hard muscled body was next to him again, and Steve was hauled into warm arms.

"Right here," he muttered and the billionaire was content once more. Wiggling closer, Steve closed his eyes, feeling safe and warm.

Tony could feel Steve relax completely against him as he drifted off. The solider was unable to smother the wide smile stretching his face as he nuzzled soft locks before closing his own eyes, completely content.

This is where he belonged.


	15. Part XV

Author's Note: So here it is, the conclusion to my reverse roll story! Thanks to all those who gave this story and chance, and read it. It's always sad to see one of my stories come to an end, but I've got two more on the go a one shot and a request fic so look for those hopefully soon. So for now enjoy the conclusion of this one, and so much fluff!

Huge thank you to my beta ravingbeauty thank you for all your hard work on this one.

That Has Such People

Part XV: **Oh brave new world that has such people in it**

Clint watched as the Cap hummed his way happily across the kitchen, utensils and pots flying as he went about the business of making breakfast.

"Nice move last night, Cap," he teased as he walked in and made a beeline for the coffee maker. Tony looked at him blankly for a moment before his neck heated.

"Wha-what?" he stuttered, wide-eyed.

"Last night." Clint repeated, turning to regard him, coffee in hand. "At the Gala when the media caught your little kiss."

"Oh, that," he exhaled, relieved.

The archer picked up on it instantly, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing," Tony said quickly as he turned back to the stove, blush deepening.

Clint was intrigued and continued to stare at the man intently; the Cap was all but glowing. Puzzled, he kept an eye on him as Bruce entered, placing a kiss his lover's cheek before heading for the cupboard and his tea. Tony automatically hit the button on the kettle, setting the water to boil.

Clint idly rubbed his chin; something was different about him, not physically… but something was definitely different. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it…

Steve staggered in next, looking bleary-eyed and half asleep, heading immediately for coffee. Clint got out of the way, knowing full well the blond man could very well bowl him over on the way.

Cup now in hand, Steve was on the move again, and Clint tracked his progress as he made for Tony. The smaller figure yawned as he leaned into the taller man's back. Tony peaked over his shoulder and offered the man a shy smile, which Steve returned brightly. Suddenly the pieces fell into place and the archer burst into laughter.

All eyes turned to him curiously. "Could you two be any more obvious?" he laughed heartily.

Bruce, mug clutched in both hands, looked quizzically at his lover.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Don't-" he began, but Thor chose that moment to make his own entrance into the kitchen.

"Congratulations, brothers in arms, on the consummation of your love," he said very seriously, clapping a horrified looking Tony on the back. Steve flinched; that sort of appreciative pat would have broken his spine. As it was, though, Tony didn't even twitch.

Clint was still laughing as Bruce tried to hide his own smile and Thor rummaged for pop tarts. Ignoring them for the time being, Steve looked to Tony worriedly.

"Tony?" he asked softly, reaching out hand as the man from the past clutched the spatula he was holding to his chest.

At that moment Natasha sauntered in, hair still damp. As she calmly walked past Tony, she paused a moment to swat his backside with a wink, "Well done, Cap."

Steve gave her a narrow-eyed glare before turning back to Tony; the poor guy looked utterly nonplussed. The blond reached up, laying a gentle hand on his cheek, turning dark eyes to meet his own.

"You ok?" he asked softly, worriedly.

"I think we broke the Cap," Clint joked and Steve turned, ready to let into him, when he felt an arm wrap around his waist and Tony burrow his face in his neck, frame shaking.

Terrified he was crying, Steve was about to turn when he realized the man was actually laughing. Grinning, Steve reached behind himself to wrap his arms around his lover? Boyfriend? Steve wanted to say yes to all that.

"You two are sickeningly sweet. Brucey, we need to step up our game," Clint called out and Steve flipped him off. Tony pressed a kiss to his neck, still chuckling.

"Ok?" Steve asked quietly as at the table Thor engaged in a mini tug of war over food with Clint.

"More than ok," Tony replied, arms tightening around the other man. "Can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

Steve felt warmth flood his chest, heart fit to burst, arc reactor whirring just a little harder than usual. Suddenly he wanted tell Tony he loved him, loved him more then anything. It didn't matter they were in the kitchen with the others – what was important was the moment, and he didn't think it could possibly get more perfect.

Turning to look at Tony, Steve was about to speak, the words trembling on his lips as his heart thundered in his ear. The soldier was looking at him curiously when the Avengers alarm sounded.

Rolling dark eyes, Tony groaned and pressed a quick kiss to Steve's lips before he grinned. "Time to save the world."

-#-#-#-

Captain America grunted as he caught his shield in mid air with a careless flip. The machine hovered a second before exploding in a shower of fire and sparks, sliced cleanly down the middle – only to have a dozen others take its place. The air above him thick with the hum and whir of machines as the Avengers fought gamely on against the innumerable beasties.

Tony really had no idea what the hell was going on; all he knew was some madman had unleashed a mechanical army against the city and the only thing standing between them and destruction was the Avengers.

What the man from the past did know, however, was his team was at his back, the love of his life was rapidly muttering in his ear, explaining rapid fire what he was trying to do, and he himself was saving the city.

For the first time in a long time a calm settled on him. Finally, all the scattered pieces of himself fell into place. This was what he was meant for, the place he was meant to be, with the people he had come to love. It was a revelation that made his heart thump and his blood surge. He had found his place in this world.

Invigorated, he rushed to Thor's side as they threw their respective weapons towards the oncoming hoard.

"Well aimed, brother," Thor called as they fought.

Cursing, Tony caught his shield as it ricocheted back. "Back at you," he grunted as the machines pressed relentlessly on.

"Iron Man, any progress on your end?" he asked over the comm, ducking out of the way of the Hulk.

"Almost there. JARVIS nearly has it hacked. Give me five," his lover answered back.

Tony nodded before remembering he needed to speak. "You got it," he said, renewing his efforts. More of the machines fell under his shield as he grunted and cursed, focused on buying his lover the time he needed.

"Got it!" Steve yelled triumphantly in his ear, and suddenly the robots froze mid-attack. Tony waited, crouched, as the small machines began to tremble violently, popping and fizzing, before falling out of the sky. Blinking in surprise, Tony glanced around and slowly stood. They were all dead… if machines could die.

"Everyone ok?" he called.

"Fine, Anthony," Thor said nearby.

"Here, babe," Steve said absently, no doubt still trying to reverse engineer the machines.

"Yeah, babe. All good," Clint teased from somewhere high above them.

Natasha sighed audibly, and the roar of triumphant for the Hulk was confirmation enough.

His team's safety confirmed, Tony tugged off his cowl and glanced around at the machines piled around him. Surrounded by the lifeless junk, he was alone now in the street, Thor having already wandered off to congratulate the Hulk.

Satisfied, he kicked one of the things absently and fished out a cigarette. Flicking his lighter, he was about to light his cigarette when he heard it – a soft, almost inaudible click.

Frowning, he cocked his head – what was that? Must be som- his thoughts cut off as suddenly the world exploded in a flash of brilliant and blinding light.

-#-#-#-

Steve was still shaken.

Unable to close his eyes for fear of seeing that horrible explosion again. The burned, tattered body of the man he loved lying on the asphalt, motionless and pale.

Reflexively Steve clutched the bandaged hand in his, blue eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. He felt like crying again, but he didn't really think he had any tears left. The last three days had been hell.

Bowing his head, the blond man held tight to Tony. The solider was silent and unmoving on the hospital bed, though, the heart machine a steady monotonous beep in the background. Steve didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted Tony to wake up and tell him it was all going to be all right. Steve would tell him he loved him and they were going to be ok.

Looking up again, he glanced around the room to find the others scattered about nearby, dozing or reading. They'd all refused to leave the Cap's side as long as he lay unconscious. Steve had been humbled and amazed by it – how Tony had managed to touch them all so deeply. They were worried about him and wouldn't leave until they were sure he'd be ok.

The world loved Captain America, and they… they loved Tony Stark.

Kissing their clasped hands, Steve rubbed the callused fingers tenderly, "Wake up soon, yeah? We're worried about you."

-#-#-#-

He woke slowly, feeling sluggish and disoriented, much like he did when he'd first awoken after the ice. Worry crept across his consciousness and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Eyes darting around the dim room, the man from the past quickly ascertained it was a hospital room.

The knowledge did nothing to assuage his worry, though. He moved his arm, only to be stopped by something holding tight to his hand. Frowning, he glanced down seeing the pale head near his hip, his hand clasped tightly in Steve's.

The relief that coursed though him was almost overwhelming. He hadn't slept for years again; he was still here. Steve was still here. Almost lightheaded, he squeezed the hand in his gently, before using bandaged fingers to tenderly card through blond hair.

Steve shifted, sleepily blinking blue eyes. Tony watched him, smiling softly as he waited for those hazy eyes to turn to him.

It took Steve a moment to realize he was looking into dark eyes and that Tony was very much awake. "Tony!" he breathed seconds before he was in his arms.

The soldier automatically pulled him close, burying his face in his neck as he breathed deeply. "Hey now," Tony said, feeling the small tremble in Steve's slight frame. "It's ok."

Steve shook his head, speaking softly into his warm skin, "No, it's not. You've been out a week."

Tony winced; he must have had a bad accident. He wracked his muzzy mind trying to remember. He recalled robots falling from the sky, a click, and after that…

"You were in the middle of it all when the machines exploded. We thought… I thought…" Steve tried to continue, but his shuddering was growing worse.

Tony just tightened his embrace. "I'm sorry," he said, unsure why he was apologizing but thinking he should.

Steve gave a watery, affectionate chuckle. "You don't have to apologize," he said as he pulled back. Scrubbing at his red eyes, he offered a shaky smile.

"I'm just glad you're ok," he breathed. "Although I think the serum is to thank for that."

Tony grinned, feeling something pull tight on his face. Absently he reached up to scratch the side of his face, only to find a thick pad of gauze. Humming, he pulled it off, wincing as it tore out some of his facial hair.

"Wait, maybe-" Steve started, but the bandage was already off and Tony was hesitantly touching the still faintly pink skin.

Blue eyes rolled. "You're still gorgeous, don't worry."

Tony smiled, "You think I'm gorgeous?"

Steve shook his head, finally managing to find a real smile as Tony pulled off more bandages. Steve watched silently for long moments as Tony checked his arms and hands, flexing and stretching.

The feelings of helplessness and frustration from the week previous boiled up inside him once more. Without conscious thought he reached out, long slender fingers gripping the muscled arm. Tony paused in his inspection to turn to him curiously, blue eyes holding his steadily. Solemn, and serious, Steve tightened his grip, the words spilling from his lips unbidden, "I love you."

Dark eyes went wide in surprise, and Steve found himself flooded with a sudden sense of relief. It felt like a terrible weight had been lifted from him; if nothing else, Tony knew. For better or worse, he knew.

Then big hands were cupping his face and Tony was tugging him close. Steve had only a moment to see the emotion shining in his eyes, before Tony was speaking softly, "That's good, because I love you, too."

Their lips met then – careful, tender, and incredibly sweet. They parted seconds later, resting their foreheads together, and Tony kissed him on the nose.

"I could really use a cigarette," he mumbled.

Steve rolled his eyes, "We'll work on getting rid of that habit."

Tony just grinned. "We'll see," he hedged.

Steve was about to let into him when the door opened and the others spilled in, talking quietly until they saw the man in the bed awake and sitting up.

"You're up," Bruce grinned as the others crowded around Tony, all talking a mile a minute.

"Wait till you see the news," Clint was saying.

"A well-fought battle, your injuries were most grievous," Thor was explaining gravely.

"Fury is fit to be tied. He blames Rogers for the whole thing," Natasha said, waving a dismissive hand.

Steve watched, amused, as Tony tried to listen to all of them at once, nodding as his eyes darted between them. His smile softened as he glanced down at their still joined hands, a feeling of contentment creeping across him.

Somehow, without really trying, the Cap had become the heart of their little team. Just by being himself he had touched them all.

"Steve, tell him how you got the robots to go down," Bruce coaxed Steve him into the conversation, and the brilliant man was happy to oblige – never once letting go of the man he loved.

On the hospital bed, some seventy years in the future, Tony Stark sat surrounded by a group of people he could have only imagined in one of his comic books – two master assassins, a Norse legend, a man with an alter ego that could destroy cities, and another in a suit of iron that he'd come to love.

It was impossible – and yet somehow, someway it had become his life… one he had every intention of making the most of.

"O brave new world, that has such people in it…" he found himself muttering.

Steve looked at him curiously. "Sorry?" he asked.

Tony was shook his head, "Nothing important."

Blue eyes gave him a strange affectionate look before he once more launched into his explanation of how the robots were defeated. The others settled near the bed as they interjected playfully, bantering back and forth. Grinning, Tony settled back to listen as Steve gestured widely and Clint poked fun at him.

He thought idly that if Howard could see him now, his brother would be proud of him. James and Pepper, too. He didn't know what future would bring, but he did know that, whatever it was, he had his friends and he had Steve.

Smile stretching even wider, he once more snagged Steve's hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. This was his life… and he wouldn't have it any other way.

End.


End file.
